


Let me help you.

by Bluebuell33



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anthea is awesome, BAMF Greg Lestrade, Bisexual Greg Lestrade, Boys In Love, But he comes round, Gay Mycroft Holmes, Greg loves his car, Hiding, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Mycroft is Sweet, Mycroft is still British, Protective Greg, Set in America, Sherlock Holmes is a Bit Not Good, University, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:42:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 53,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27184006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebuell33/pseuds/Bluebuell33
Summary: When Mycroft is blamed for his uncle's death, his only options are prison or go into hiding. Unwilling to leave his younger brother without family, Mycroft chooses to run. Aided by a family friend, Mycroft and Sherlock escape to America, becoming Michael and Scott Hunt.Mycroft finds himself blackmailed into a running an illegal gambling hall, until a few chance encounters with Gregory Lestrade change his life forever.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Comments: 146
Kudos: 99
Collections: Sherlock Author Showcase 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my Mystrade story. I wrote this for NaNoWriMo 2019 and have spent the last year rewriting, editing and giving this story an ending. It has taken many wonderful people to get it to this point. I want to thank Dee and Paia for helping me get this off the ground and Harmony for helping me hit my goal to finish this story before this years NaNo. I couldn't have done it without their help. I hope you all enjoy this story. It is fully finished, so I will most likely post two chapters a week if not more. I am super excited and nervous to finally share this story.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**Chapter 1**

Mycroft moved quickly, arranging their few bags into the car boot under the cover of darkness. They needed to hurry if they were going to get out of here before anyone noticed he was missing. An old family friend, Mr Hudson, was kind enough to secure them passage to America safely and quietly, though, Mycroft was beginning to feel like he had made a deal with the devil in Mr Hudson. _Was I just trading one prison for another at this point?_ He was innocent but there was no way to prove this right now; they were just a couple of kids. 

_How has it even come to this?_

No, they had to get out now, then he would begin to clear their names. Well, his name. His brother wasn’t happy with any of this, but Mycroft was trying desperately to keep them together and was doing what he thought was best for both of them. 

He closed the boot of the car and hurried to the front seat. He just had to get them to the airport. From there, Mr Hudson would see to the rest. 

His brother was sulking in the passenger seat already. It was hard for him to lose everything they had known and to be on the run as well. Mycroft hoped that he could make it up to Sherlock and things would be better for them at some point. 

"Are you ready?" he asked. 

Sherlock only scowled in response.

“I am sorry, Sherlock.” Mycroft didn’t know what else to say as he started the car. 

“What happened to Uncle Rudy?” Sherlock questioned, while Mycroft pulled out onto the street.

“I don’t know for sure. All Mr Hudson said was that it was something I did and the police were going to be coming for me.” Mycroft replied quietly, watching his rear mirror for anyone following them. 

“We don’t know that for sure,” Sherlock stated. 

“We can’t risk waiting to find out, Sherlock. Maybe once we are settled in America, I can look into it. But if we don’t get out tonight, they will come for me.” Mycroft knew he would have no chance to clear his name if they took him now. Mr Hudson had made that very clear.

Their only option was to run now, without a penny to their name and hope that Mr Hudson’s plan to hide them in New York worked. Mycroft didn’t know what he would have done if Mr Hudson hadn’t come to him with this. He had no reason not to trust the man. 

Mr Hudson had been a friend and colleague of Uncle Rudy’s and his father for many years prior to this unfortunate disaster. Mycroft could only hope he was making the right choice for both him and Sherlock.

  
**2 years later:**

Greg pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the inside pocket of his black leather jacket - he had been dying for a smoke all through his last class. He lit a cigarette, taking his first long drag of the afternoon, letting the smoke fill his lungs and linger there for a moment before permitting the smoke to slide slowly back out through his mouth. 

The sweet release of nicotine and burning smoke in his lungs had him releasing a sigh of relief and contentment while he ran his tongue across the ring through his bottom lip. This last class had been trying, testing his patience to the absolute max. The teacher had dragged on and on about something Greg had already forgotten about now.

He ran a hand through his messy, dark hair as he took another drag from the cigarette, letting the smoke linger longer this time. 

He leaned back against the brick wall of the building, legs crossed, looking down at his scuffed black Doc Martens, about to take another drag when he heard a group of boys nearby. 

“He always pushes the glasses up his nose!” laughed one of the boys.

“You would think with a nose like that, his glasses wouldn’t always slide down!” said another. They all laughed at this. 

As Greg turned, he spotted Nathan and Jacob with their followers. Jake was doing his best impression of pushing glasses up his nose and straightening a non existent tie while the rest laughed and cheered him on. 

They had all been in his last class, so there was no question as to who Jake was pretending to be. Michael Hunt. The name that sent shivers down Greg’s spine and warmth through his groin. Michael Hunt was a gorgeous Brit who wore a dress shirt and tie under his soft sweaters, pants always pressed and finished off by polished dress shoes. 

Everyone gave Michael a hard time as he always seemed dressed for Sunday church. But Greg loved those sweaters and he imagined they must be incredibly soft to the touch, though he had never gotten to touch one himself. 

He admired Michael’s lack of care for what others thought about him; he never seemed to give anyone a second glance. His blue eyes never lingered, only glancing around as he moved from one class to another. 

Greg guided the cigarette back to his mouth, taking another long drag, wishing Michael’s eyes would linger on him for just a moment's time. But Michael was “Upper East Side” with his manners and style, while Greg was pure “Queens” with his punk rock look complete with piercings and tattoos. 

Two different sides of the tracks, that was for sure. Greg looked across the campus while taking his next drag, spotting Connor headed towards him. He dropped the cigarette butt on the ground putting it out with the toe of his boot just as Connor reached him. 

This was their favorite meeting spot after class,the perfect place to enjoy quick smoke and a secret make out session. Connor wasn't out yet and he was determined to keep what was between them hidden. Most of the time Greg was okay with that, but some days he wished that Connor could step out of the closet and truly just be himself. 

“Hey, can I bum a cigarette? I’m out.” Connor came to a stop right in front of Greg. He was wearing a well fitted black tee, jeans and black Converse today. His blonde hair was cut short on the sides and longer on top. Most of the time he left it scruffy, but Greg loved it most when he spiked it into a perfect mohawk to go out at night. Connor said it made him look edgier. 

“Sure,” Greg pulled out his pack again, taking another one for himself too. He leaned slightly forward so Connor could light his own. Greg sucked the smoke into his lungs slowly, watching Connor look around.

“Rough day? Or are you looking for someone else?” Greg exhaled the smoke. Connor and him had been going out for almost eight months now, off and on. They met at a club and were surprised to learn they went to the same school. Connor was a year younger then Greg and studying to be a computer tech so t. They had none of the same classes. 

Connor played with his tongue piercing before taking a drag and looking up at Greg. “Man, classes sucked today.” 

There was something else. Greg couldn’t put his finger on what, but Connor was fidgeting more than normal. He inhaled another lung full of smoke while he waited. Greg had always felt he was a patient man, never rushing things or into things. He did tend to get into a spot of trouble now and then but nothing he couldn’t handle. He leaned against the wall, finishing his cigarette as Connor dropped his on the ground. 

“It’s nothing, just one of those days.” Connor gave him a crooked grin, his green eyes dancing a bit. It was one of Greg’s favorite looks. He reached out grabbing the front of Connor’s tee pulling him in close and sealing their lips together. It was wet and messy and he liked it; he slid his hands down and around Connor’s hips pulling him closer until they were pressed against each other. 

Making out with Connor had its perks, the tongue piercing for one; Greg enjoyed the feel of the metal in his mouth as their tongues fought for dominance. He was quite happy playing with the metal stud right now as Connor groaned into his mouth. 

Greg liked making out - he liked sex of any kind. He was a sexual person and being a young bisexual, he had his pick of both teams. For him, it was more about the connection than if they were male or female. He had tasted from both pools and enjoyed himself, mostly his taste ran heavily to men as there was just something about sucking cock that he loved. Even now as he made out with Connor, here against the wall, he was calculating how long it would take to get Connor back to his apartment and undressed. 

He pulled Connor’s hips forward again, letting their erections slide together even though they were separated by several layers of clothing. Greg let out a groan before tearing his mouth from Connor’s to suck at the point where his neck met his shoulder, leaving a nice dark mark to remember him by later.

Greg heard books hit the sidewalk in a distinct thud. Opening his eyes while still latched to Connor’s neck, he could see none other than Michael Hunt standing several feet away from them, staring straight at Greg. Their eyes met. Greg gave Michael a teasing wink. 

What he had not expected was Michael to return the look with an impassive raised eyebrow before scooping to pick up his dropped books and moving on. 

_Well, that was one way to get Michael’s attention._

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft closed the books to his last class of the day. There was no reason to rush and deal with the crowd of students pushing towards the door. He slid off his glasses, giving them a slow clean that they didn’t need, keeping him busy while he waited. He could hear the snide comments and juvenile laughter behind him that regularly accompanied his every movement. 

He paid them no attention as they didn’t know him at all. Everything about him was a disguise, his glasses, his hair, even his name, Michael Hunt. Mr Hudson’s nephew from England as far as anyone was concerned. 

He thought America was supposed to be different. _ How were these unruly juveniles even the same age as me?  _ Granted this college had not been his first choice, but it was what he could get into with fake papers and was getting him to his end result. So it would suffice. 

His phone pinged from the outer pocket of his bag that sat on the floor by his feet. 

_ Friday afternoon at 4 pm. That would be Anthea. Weekend details needing to be finalized.  _

He pulled the phone out to read her message as he stood to collect his bag and books. 

**Received:**

**Tonight’s location has been confirmed. Putting the word out.**

**Sent:**

**Thank you. See you at 9. MH**

He straightened his shirt before sliding the bag over his shoulder. He had five hours until he needed to meet Anthea; three of those hours would be spent interning at the law office. He wished that he could cancel tonight with Anthea, he needed to study, but he also needed new books and he owed Mrs Hudson rent by next week. Even though she always told him he didn’t need to pay, Mycroft wasn’t going to be indebted to anyone ever again. Long days were becoming his regular routine. Juggling his studies and the internship with his night activities on the weekends was a challenge. 

He let out a small internal sigh. There was no use wishing things were easier, they were not going to change anytime soon. If the last two years had shown him anything, it was that.

Mycroft walked down the hall towards the exit, but was only halfway when the taunts started. Pushing his glasses back up his nose, he shook his head at their comments as he left the building. 

Same insults, different day. When would they learn he didn’t care what they thought? Someday he would be a powerful man and they would be working in a food service for minimum wage. 

Mycroft had made it around the corner before losing the battle with his books. Dropping them as he tried to push his glasses up again. He quickly glanced around to see if anyone had noticed, his eyes landing on two boys half-hidden against the building. 

It took exactly one second for him to realise what they were doing. The dark-haired boy facing him was latched on to the neck of the other boy. Both seemed to be enjoying themselves. 

The dark-haired boy lifted his face slightly, locking eyes with Mycroft as he stared. 

Mycroft recognized him immediately. Gregory Lestrade. His opposite in more ways than one. Gregory gave him a cheeky wink and Mycroft raised his eyebrow at the display he was witnessing. 

_ How nice it must be to have someone to kiss like that… _ Mycroft knelt to pick up his books, jealousy rearing its head as he did, catching him by surprise. He had no right to be jealous. He would never have something like that. Mycroft shook the thoughts from his mind, he had to hurry in order to be there in time for when his brother got home from school. They needed to eat before he left for the night. He hated having to leave Sherlock so often at night while he conducted business. 

When they had moved here from London two years ago, Sherlock had hated him for it, even though he understood why they had no choice. He would often hide up on the roof of their flat, to sulk. It was on one of these occasions, Sherlock met a boy that lived in the flat below them who also liked the rooftop. 

Becoming fast inseparable friends, Sherlock now spent his time when Mycroft was away with his new friend John. This helped ease the guilt for Mycroft as he didn’t have to worry about Sherlock while he was working. 

Sherlock didn’t handle boredom well; John helped keep him entertained and out of trouble for the most part. Sometimes, Sherlock would get them both in trouble though and Mycroft would have to step in to fix things. 

Being the sole guardian of a seventeen-year-old boy who didn’t want to listen, was harder than Mycroft thought it would be, but he hadn’t wanted to lose his brother on top of everything, so Sherlock had been dragged to America with him and now they had to make the best of it. . 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Greg hurried around the corner of Elm Street, almost knocking down a person as he did. He stopped only for a moment to apologize then continued on his way. He was late already, he could hear the person going on about the ungrateful youth of this country as he opened the door on his right. 

His boss met him at the door. “You’re late, again.” She blocked his way in her knee-high laced boots and ripped jeans. 

“Yeah, I know. It won’t happen again.” Greg flashed his most charming smile. He loved working in this store for her. Not only did she embody the look of an epic punk rocker, but the store had the most amazing collection of albums in the city. Some people would say she was too old to dress like that, but people were often idiots.

“See that it doesn’t, or next time I might just have to let you go.” Her voice was serious, but her eyes were teasing. 

Greg laughed. “No, you won’t. You need me, Mel.” 

“Just because you are the only employee at this stellar record treasury that masquerades as a store doesn’t mean I won’t fire your ass.” She gave him a pointed look before walking towards the back of the store. “Don’t forget to hang up the new posters I got, this time,” she called back. 

Then she was gone, all 5 feet 4 inches of tattoo-covered, blue hair rocking, punk band tee wearing self.  _ God, she is something _ . If she wasn’t completely devoted to her tattoo artist wife, he would have... Well, he might have if she had any interest, but he also really needed this job. 

_ Time to hang up posters and see what new “treasures” arrived last night.  _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mycroft checked his pocket watch. A gift. Nothing expensive, but nice just the same. Meant to be a reminder from Mr Hudson. A reminder that he was not his own man. That his life was not his own. Not yet anyway. 

Half an hour to go. Time to finish getting ready. Mycroft stared at the sharply dressed man with slicked-back hair and gold pocket watch staring back at him in the mirror. 

“The suit makes the man,” his Uncle Rudy used to say. 

_ The man of what? Lies?  _

Mycroft lied to everyone around him each and every day - he had to. No one could know the true man that lay beneath the nice clothes and smartly styled hair. Not that anyone wanted to anyway, there was certainly no queue of suitors waiting for that opportunity. 

Just as well, Mycroft didn’t have time for anything else in his life. Taking care of Sherlock, keeping a roof over their heads and food on the table was enough at this point. 

He slid on his jacket and took one more glance in the mirror before walking from the room. He found Sherlock and John on the couch watching television, Sherlock was deducing the actors and John was enjoying every moment of it. 

Mycroft watched for a moment with a touch of envy. What he wouldn’t give for someone to share something so simple with. He scoffed at himself  _ like you had opportunity or time for that sort of relationship in your life.  _ Someone needed to put food on the table and see that Sherlock had what he needed. There was no time for...attachments. 

Two quick honks sounded from outside. Anthea had arrived. 

“Sherlock, do see that you both stay out of trouble tonight. Please.” Mycroft ended with a look at John. He was as different in appearance to Sherlock as he could be: with his blond, short cut hair and short, compact build. He stood out next to Sherlock’s dark wavy curls and lean build. but they were very similar in other ways. 

“No worries, Mycroft. Sherlock and I are staying in tonight.” John grinned. “There is a trekky marathon of Next Generation that I have been waiting for!” 

“Thank you, John. Goodnight to you both. I will be home late.” 

“Like you are ever here anyway,” Sherlock sneered, not looking up. 

“Sherlock,” John warned. 

“It’s quite alright, John. Sherlock has a right to say so. I do try though, brother...” Before Mycroft could continue, two more honks sounded. He quickly checked his watch. 

“Better go, Mycroft. Your keeper is waiting,” Sherlock mocked. 

Mycroft turned from where he had moved to the door. “You know why I do this, Sherlock. You know why.” His voice was filled with frustration. 

“Yea, Yea... Just go. John and I are busy.” 

“Sherlock,” John scolded.

Mycroft shook his head, letting out a sigh. He could never do right by Sherlock, no matter how he tried. Everything he did was for Sherlock, maybe he would see that one day. Mycroft hurried down the stairs and out into the night, sliding smoothly into Anthea’s car. 

“Mycroft,” she gave him a nod before putting the car in gear and speeding off into the dark. 

Mycroft threw one last glance up at the window of their apartment before it disappeared in the dark. Someday, maybe Sherlock would understand the sacrifices that he made to keep them together. 


	3. Chapter 3

Greg had closed the shop, another perfect day surrounded by music. He had just turned off the front lights and moved towards the back of the store, when his phone pinged from the counter. It was a text from Connor.

**Received:**

**We still chilling tonight?**

**Sent:**

**Yea, sure. My place?**

**Received:**

**On my way**

**Sent:**

**Bring beer.**

Ten minutes later, Greg unlocked his apartment to find Connor lounging on his couch watching TV, drinking a beer. 

“Do make yourself at home,” Greg joked as he locked the door behind him. Conner had a way of always breaking into his apartment. It was no great thing since he had nothing of value anyway. Worn out second-hand furniture was his theme with accents of vintage lamps and posters he had collected. 

He tossed his keys on the counter as he crossed to the fridge, grabbing himself a beer. Popping the top, he took a swig of the cold liquid before walking to the couch. Connor made no move to stop hogging the couch, so Greg draped his body over his, nuzzling right behind Connor’s ear. 

“Missed you,” he whispered against Connor’s neck, dropping a kiss there as he set his beer on the floor. It gave him two free hands to roam down and under Connor’s shirt. 

“Did you now?” Connor smiled, his hands coming up to settle on Greg’s ass.

“Yes, I did,” Greg replied, grounding his hips against Connor’s at the same time, causing him to let out a groan. “ Should I show you how much?” he teased, licking a stripe up Connor’s neck. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mycroft entered the building and prepared for this evening's event with a weary heart. Every time he stepped behind this mask, this other man - the persona that he outwardly projected to everyone around him outside of his own flat, he felt like he lost a part of himself. A part he might never get back. 

Two years of living in hiding and over a year and a half of running an illegal Gambling Hall (for lack of a better name) against his will. And what did he have to show for it? Nothing. He was barely existing at this point. Sherlock had John to be with and help him, but Mycroft had no one. No one to talk to, no one to help share the burden that he carried with him every day, the secrets that weighed heavy on him.

For him, it was either run this operation or allow Mr Hudson to tip off the authorities, and Mycroft couldn’t risk that. He couldn’t risk being taken away from Sherlock and ending up in some nameless prison for something he hadn’t done. It would be his word against theirs and no one was going to believe a twenty-two year old boy who they thought had killed his uncle for money.

But the strange part was Mycroft and Sherlock didn’t need their uncle’s money. They had their own money from their parents' estate, which Mycroft had used to pay for university and Sherlock's school before everything happened. He just couldn’t access the money now without alerting the authorities to his whereabouts. If he could then none of this would have been necessary. 

_Once more into the fray._ Mycroft thought to himself as he nodded to Hugh at the door and made his way through to the makeshift room that would be his office. Anthea appeared beside him with the briefcase holding the house cash for the evening. They had half an hour to set everything up before the first clients would arrive to play. 

Mycroft loathed having told Mr Hudson about his abilities when it came to cards - the ability that Mr Hudson was now exploiting each weekend, making money off anyone who dared to show up. Mycroft had to make sure the clients won just enough to keep them coming back. It was all in the numbers and Mycroft was brilliant when it came to numbers. Ever since he was young, Mycroft loved numbers. He assumed it came from his mother. She was a brilliant mathematician, having published several books on the subject when he and Sherlock were younger. 

“Mycroft? It’s time.” Anthea stood by the door. 

Mycroft looked up, his mind snapping back to the present. He had been mindlessly setting up the room while his thoughts had been elsewhere. Now, it was showtime. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Greg took the first sip of his freshly brewed coffee from his favorite coffee shop just down the street from his apartment. No one made coffee like this place did. The perfect cup every time. They must have made a deal with the devil at some point, there was no other explanation. It was Greg’s favorite place to enjoy a cup and people-watch the afternoon away. Every day there would be something happening either on the street or in the cafe. 

Greg was just settling in to watch a couple that had arrived and about to start a good argument from the look of it. But Greg didn’t have time to enjoy it before his view was interrupted by the sight of Connor. It had been two weeks since he had seen the boy and judging from his clothes and his appearance those weeks had not been kind. 

“Hey, Grego!” Connor dropped into the seat next to him. 

Greg gave him a skeptical look. “Grego? Really? What happened to you? I haven’t seen or heard from you in weeks and now this? Seriously?” Greg just shook his head, taking another sip of his delicious coffee.

“Ugh, what are you, my mother?” Connor questioned with a flash of anger, grabbing Greg's coffee and taking a drink. 

“No, but I thought I was at least your boyfriend for a bit in there. Not a call or text in all that time? You should be glad I didn’t call the cops and file a missing person report. You jerk.” Greg gritted out, taking his coffee back from Connor. “If it hadn’t been for Jimmy saying that he had been out with you a couple of times during those weeks I would have called the cops. What the hell, Connor?”

“Don’t be like that, man. I just found this awesome place to gamble,” he whispered, leaning close, air quoting around the word gamble. 

“Gamble? You don’t gamble?” Greg said in disgust, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Just like Connor to get involved in something like this. He was always into something. 

“This place is awesome and exclusive. They don’t let just anyone in there. You have to be in the know. Once you're in, you're in.” Connor beamed proudly at this fact. 

“And how did you get in the know?” Greg glanced over Connor’s shoulder to the couple that had been gearing up for a show but was disappointed to find they had gone already. _Oh well,_ he thought to himself.

“Bobby Jenson got me in.” Connor looked so proud again, while he tried to reach for Greg’s coffee. Greg wrapped his hand around the cup, daring Connor to try and take it this time. 

“Bobby? Drug dealing Bobby? Bobby who will be lucky to see twenty-five?” Greg said, letting go of the cup for a moment to rub his fingers tips against his temple. 

“Yea, well when you say it like that.” Connor looked unhappy as he swiped Greg’s coffee one more time.

“Is there another way to say it? How on earth did you get involved with him anyway? Don’t tell me the reason I haven’t seen or heard from you in two weeks has to do with drugs?” Greg growled, realizing at this point that this was not the place or time for this conversation. “You know what, maybe we should continue this back at my place? Yeah?”

“Why so you can yell at me?” Connor huffed, finishing Greg’s coffee in a gulp.

“Is there a reason for me to yell?” 

“I just wanted to share this with you. Now that I am in the _know_ I can get you in too." Connor seemed really excited. "We can go there together now. It’s so awesome, Greggy.”

“Greggy?” Greg raised his eyebrows at Connor. "What are you on? And stop with the air quotes, man geez. Did you drink it all?!” Greg lifted his empty cup, weighing it to find it was definitely empty.

"No, there wasn’t much left and I just had a little something to take the edge off. I have had a bad day, alright. Get off my case, you're not my mom." Connor frowned, getting edgier by the moment, his leg bouncing.

"No, I'm not." Greg sighed, reaching out to take Connor’s hand. “Look I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to--I just--You know how I feel about drugs, Connor.” 

“Yea, but chill. It’s nothing really. This Hall, on the other hand, you really need to see. I mean really.”

Greg thought about it for a moment as he looked at Connor. The boy was bouncing in the seat, biting his fingernails as he did. Greg wanted to track down Bobby and beat him to a pulp for giving Connor drugs. But finding Bobby when he didn’t want to be found was not an easy thing. 

“So do you want to come with me to the Hall next weekend?” Connor questioned, looking hopeful. “Everyone is going to be there.” 

“Who’s everyone?” 

“James, Ricky, Monica, Daine and Bobby, it’s going to be lit.” 

_Well, well, Bobby. Just the man I want to find._ Greg made a big show of thinking hard about it, while knowing full well he would be going if it meant he could give Bobby a piece of his mind, or his fist..

“Next weekend, huh? I might be able to make it. Is there a dress code for this place?” Greg questioned, trying to sound casual.

“Nah dude, it's a ‘come as you are’, though sometimes there are some nicely dressed players too,” Connor kept shifting in his seat.

“Oh yea?” Greg continued to ponder. “I guess if it is important to you, I will try to check it out.” 

He watched Connor settle a bit. _Because who knows, it might be fun. Though Bobby better watch his back._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4, our boys are almost ready to interact. I know this is a bit of a slow build and not a lot like my other writing. But I hope you are enjoying it anyways.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Saturday night, Greg stood in front of his mirror. _Damn, he looked good._ Black leather jacket, black tee-shirt (tight), dark jeans with just the right amount of holes, black Doc Martens (perfect for kicking drug dealers' asses). He was ready. He ran his hand through his hair giving it just enough mess to look good. He gave the mirror a quick wink before heading out.

As he locked the door behind him, Greg got the feeling he was being watched. He checked around as he descended the stairs, and as he reached the bottom, out of the shadows stepped a man. A particular man that Greg had been trying to avoid for months. 

“Greg?” came the voice, he never wanted to hear again.

“What do you want?” he snarled towards the man.

“Is that any way to greet your father?” 

Greg huffed. “My father?” He looked towards the door to the outside. _How did he even get in here?_

“Damn right, your father. You just going to stand there and not ask me how I am?” The man wobbled a bit on his feet. 

_Drunk,_ Greg noted. “What do you want, _Bill_?” Greg would not call this man his father again. Not after everything. 

Bill grunted. “You will address me as father or dad or sir, you ungrateful bastard.” He staggered again, barely standing on his own two feet.

“Go before you fall down. You’re drunk.” Greg moved to walk past the man but he reached out catching Greg’s arm. 

“You will not disrespect me, boy,” Bill growled, his grip on Greg’s arm was tight, most likely leaving a bruise as they spoke. 

“Really, why are you here?” Greg asked again. He needed to go pick up Connor and he had nothing to say to this man. 

He took a moment to look at his _father_ . His hair was dirty as was the rest of him. Jobless again. Probably wanting money. _Again_. Greg had none to give. He tried to give him money before, but that just resulted in the man always returning. It made no difference if he moved apartments, his father always seemed to find a way to track him down. Soon he would be done with college and he would get as far from here as he could with no looking back. 

A part of him felt sorry for his mother that she had married this man and had been stuck with him for all these years, but that had been her choice. Greg had tried to get her away from him a couple of times, but every time she went back, claiming he had changed or was different. Greg knew that he would never change, that this man would always be the deadbeat he had been since Greg was little. He wished his mother had protected him better as a child, and had seen Bill for what he was. He wished she had left when he did and protected herself. But it was too late. She’d been gone for five years now. And he would never forgive his father for that.

In the here and now, Greg needed to get away before things got violent as they always seemed to when he and _Bill_ were in the same room. 

“Look I have nothing for you and I am late to meet someone.” Greg tried to move again towards the door. 

“Oh, going to meet your boyfriend?” Bill slurred. “You fucking queer.” 

Greg gritted his teeth together, repeating over and over in his head. _Don’t hit him, he is not worth it. Don’t hit him, he is not worth it. Repeat Greg. Repeat._

“I’m not talking to you about this. Now get out of my way and leave me alone,” Greg spat out, wrenching his arm free and making a break for the door. 

Once on the street, Greg hurried towards the parking area where he kept his car, hoping Bill didn’t follow him. Hitting the unlock button, he quickly slid into the driver's seat, closing and locking the doors. When that was done, he let out a sigh of relief, the back of his head hitting the headrest as his eyes closed. His hands gripped the steering wheel. He was lucky this time. _No bruises to hide or lie about._ Though now that he was older it was somewhat easier to lie about them. He certainly didn’t miss those days.

A knock on his window had him all but jumping out of his skin. Eyes flying open, Greg found Connor standing beside his car, grinning like a fool. 

“Dude, did you fall asleep in there? I couldn’t remember if you were picking me up or I was meeting you here?” Connor rounded the car, pulling at the door handle on the passenger side door. “Fuck, open up Greg.”

“Sorry.” Greg unlocked the doors, looking around nervously as he did, still checking for Bill, before starting the car. Connor got in as the engine purred awake, Greg ran his hands over the steering wheel. 

_God, I love this car. My pride and joy. My beautiful lady._ It was a royal blue, Ford Focus hatchback with rally tires and 6-speed manual. She was beautiful and she was all his, just like his apartment. Everything he had worked hard for and no one could take it away from him. 

“Greg!” 

Greg snapped back from his head into the car again. “What?”

“Stop drooling over the car and drive. Sheez man. It’s just a car.” 

Greg laughed, and three seconds later, they pulled out of the parking spot with Connor choosing music for the ride and Greg shifting gears like a dream. 

_Maybe tonight won’t be a total loss._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

Mycroft tried to relax in his chair at this week’s location. A mid-century building, no longer being used, most likely foreclosed due to bad management and the perfect place for tonight’s games. The room below was already beginning to fill with the regulars. Mycroft stood and walked to the window, looking down at the floor below.

Anthea arranged the places, the people, and the crowds each weekend. Mycroft supplied the brains, though he was pretty sure Anthea didn’t need him for that either. But Mr Hudson had made it very clear that Mycroft was to be in charge of the operation, the front man. Mycroft was beginning to believe it was so he would be the one to take the fall if anything went wrong. Insurance on Mr Hudson’s part. 

There was a loud commotion near the entrance of the building, as Connor Davis and his group returned for the third week in a row. Connor had a serious gambling problem and had become one of their top losers. _Some nights barely leaving with his shirt, as they say._

_Wait!_ Mycroft felt his heart jump a little. _Who is the tall, dark and handsome beside Connor?..._

_Greg. Gregory Lestrade was here in this building. His building. Of course he should have known that at some point Connor would bring him. It was only logical, as they were seeing each other. Were they still seeing each other?_ Mycroft hadn’t seen them together at school since the day he caught them snogging behind the building. 

That had been agonizing for Mycroft to watch. Gregory was beautiful and Mycroft wanted nothing more than to know what kissing that boy felt like. But that was not for him to know. Not only was Gregory seeing Connor, but Mycroft had no time for relationships at all. Period. No time. 

Mycroft watched as the two walked through the room, Connor finding his customary table towards the middle. Greg followed along but he also seemed to be scanning the crowd. _Looking for someone?_ For a minute, Mycroft wished it was him that Gregory was seeking out. But that was laughable; Gregory didn’t even know who he was. They shared a couple of classes at school, but that was it. They had never interacted.

Mycroft decided that his time would be better spent not imagining something that would never happen. _Head out of the clouds and back on earth, Mycroft,_ his mother would say _._ Oh, how he loved to lay out in the grass and watch the clouds float by. When Sherlock was younger, they would try to find shapes in the clouds. But that was before everything fell apart. Now, he and Sherlock barely spoke and they most definitely didn’t have time to stare at the clouds together. 

Things with Sherlock had gotten worse over the last couple of weeks. Just ten days ago, the unthinkable happened, Mycroft learned that John was going away. John’s mother was getting remarried and John and the new husband didn’t get on, so John was moving from their building. Not just moving in fact, John had decided to enlist in the army to help pay for college. He wanted to become a doctor. Sherlock had not taken the news well. He never left his room now except for school and had not spoken of John since. 

Mycroft tried to remind Sherlock that he could still talk to John on the phone or text the boy regardless of where he lived, but Sherlock wouldn’t hear a word of it. He had taken to sulking constantly and talking to no one. 

Mycroft was close to the end of his rope with Sherlock. And just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, then the school had called to inform him that Sherlock had been skipping classes. Mycroft had not realized and was upset with himself that he had not noticed. It was his job to take care of Sherlock and he was failing yet again. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Greg scanned the room looking for any sign of Bobby, who had not arrived with them. Watching Connor out of the corner of his eye, Greg couldn’t believe the amounts he was losing. 

He stepped closer, sliding an arm around his waist and pressing his lips to the Connor’s ear. “Hey, slow down we just got here. At this rate you will be broke in an hour.” 

“Fuck off, Greg. I know what I’m doing.” Connor shoved at him a bit. 

Greg dropped his arm, stepping back. _What was that about? How was Connor living if this was how he was gambling each weekend?_

He noticed a movement to his left and turned to see Bobby arriving. _Finally._ Greg spun away from Connor and started across the room. At least he could do something about _this_. He knew his face must be telling of his intentions as people began to move out of his way. 

“Bobby! What the hell, man!” Greg yelled as he grabbed the weaselly boy by his shirt, slamming him against the wall behind him. 

“Greg dude! What’s the deal? Fuck man!” Bobby sputtered. 

“You know what my deal is! Did you think I wouldn’t find out? I told you to leave him alone before and I meant it.” Greg was seeing red at this point. 

“Man, you’re not the boss of him!” Bobby shot back, grabbing at his hands, trying to get loose.

“I think I was pretty clear-” Greg didn’t get a chance to finish as there was a tap on his shoulder from a petite brunette with a bored look on her face. 

“Sir, I am going to need you to come with me.” 

“Why?” Greg wasn’t about to let this chance go. 

“Because the boss said so and because if you don’t, Hugh will have to remove you forcefully.” She nodded to a large man to her right. 

“Alright, I get it.” Greg let go of Bobby, but not before giving him one more shove into the wall. “After you,” He gestured to the woman. “Bobby, don’t get comfortable,” Greg warned, pointing a finger at Bobby as he followed the petite woman across the room and up some stairs to face the boss. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys finally meet! Enjoy. <3

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**Chapter 5**

Mycroft had watched the confrontation from his room upstairs. Robert Jenson was a pathetic dealer that had started selling his wares outside and now inside Mycroft’s Hall each weekend. He had spoken to Mr Hudson about him, but was told to leave it alone.

Mycroft despised drugs and loathed having them around the Hall, but it wasn’t his call. He had to do Mr Hudson’s bidding... He watched as Anthea approached Gregory and spoke to him. She stood her ground, despite the confrontation she was breaking up. Mycroft had to admit he was impressed and a little jealous that Gregory was allowed to do to Robert what he wished he could do. But then Anthea and Hugh had started to lead Gregory across the room and up to his office.  _ What is she doing?  _

Mycroft moved from the window to sit behind his desk. He nervously moved the briefcase to the floor, trying to tidy the space and prepare to behave like a manager.. 

His nerves were out of control. _ I can do this _ . This was just a client that was causing trouble. He dealt with this every weekend, at least once a night, when Anthea thought he needed to handle something more serious than simply throwing a person out of the building. That task was left to Hugh. But Mycroft had to handle the difficult cases and establish the expectations of the Hall to the customers. Despite the fact that he was young, he was very good at seeming older and more intimidating. Anthea seemed to enjoy making him do it. But Gregory? That was going to be much harder. 

_ Breathe. Just breathe. You can do this. Just keep breathing. Slow down before you hyperventilate,  _ he reminded himself.

There was a knock at the door, before the three of them entered the room. 

“Sir, this is Greg Lestrade,” she nodded, then left the room, posting Hugh just outside the door. 

_ Keep breathing calmly.  _

“Please have a seat.” Mycroft gestured towards the chair in front of his desk. “I see you are having an issue with Robert Jenson.”

Gregory huffed as he sat down in the chair. “Who Bobby? You could say that. What is the problem?” 

“The problem is that you have chosen to do so in my Hall.” 

“This is all yours?” Gregory gestured as he looked around the room. Mycroft wondered what he was seeing.  _ Was he displeased? Sure it was not the greatest place and not a business he really wanted to claim but he was in charge whether he liked it or not.  _

“Yes, I am in charge.” Mycroft couldn’t read the expression that crossed Greg’s face. 

“Did you know Bobby is dealing in this, well in _your_ _Hall_?'' 

Mycroft nodded. “I am aware.” 

“So that is just okay? Not only...you know what never mind. What do you want from me?”

“Merely to ask that you do not start anything while you are here. I do not need the police showing up, given this is not a legal establishment. As I’m sure you’re aware.” 

“Yea, okay, I get it. I won’t cause any trouble here. But you should really think about not allowing scum like that in here then. It  _ will _ bring the cops one day.” Greg stated, simple. “Is that all Mr Hunt?” 

Mycroft’s heart stopped. _ Greg knows who I am? How? How does this man know who I am? We’ve never really spoken or interacted at all. How?  _

Greg’s face lit up with a knowing smile.. 

_ He knows he’s put me off balance. Damn him. Say nothing. No! Say something. God what now… _

~~~~~~~~

Greg was enjoying the looks crossing Michael’s face.  _ Disbelief that Greg knew him. Nerves. Fear. Why fear? _ Greg hadn’t meant to scare him. He just liked to tease a bit, especially someone as beautiful as Michael Hunt, who seemed untouchable and distant. Man, Greg wanted to see him unrestricted. To see him less put together. Right now, the way he was dressed - all corporate and managerial - was doing things to Greg’s insides that had him all but squirming in his seat. 

He wanted to be the one to see Michael undone. He leaned forward a bit in the seat, only to see Michael watching him, trying to figure him out. 

“Yes, I know who you are. I have for a long time, you know. Though I will admit that seeing you without glasses threw me a bit. No suit or slicked-back hair is going to change that beautiful face of yours enough to hide you. I am curious as to what a nice boy like you is doing running a place like this.” 

Michael sighed. Standing, he moved to the window, looking towards the floor below, but offered no words. 

Greg stood, moving beside him. “Don’t want to talk about it? Or can’t?” 

“Both. If I am being honest.” 

“I get it. This must be alot - looking after all of this.. Best that not a lot of people know who is behind it I guess. My uncle is a cop, so I get it.” Greg didn’t miss Michael stiffening at the word cop. “Don’t worry he won’t hear about this from me.” 

Michael’s shoulders dropped a bit but he was still on edge. “May I ask why you were confronting Robert in here?”

“He is dealing to a friend of mine and I knew he would be here tonight. Easier than trying to track him down. Not a man that likes to be found unless you are a customer of his.”

“Ah yes of course.” 

“But enough about Bobby. I would rather talk about something else, like you.” Greg grinned, hoping to take advantage of the time with Michael. Maybe he would calm down and even open up a bit more. So Greg could get to know him. This was his chance. 

“Me?” Michael let out a small gasp, his guard dropping a bit. “But why? We don’t know each other. We are not friends...”

“I am trying to change that, I guess.” 

“Why?” 

“If you would rather not, I understand. I just wanted to get to know you. But I can go if you would like...” Greg made a move towards the door. His charms seemed to be getting him nowhere.

“Wait, I didn’t mean... I just. No one ever wants to get to know me. So I am just curious as to why?” 

Greg paused, smiling. “I guess I'm not just anyone.” 

“Oh?” Michael gave him that raised eyebrow that Greg loved. He wanted to run his fingers over that eyebrow and those cheekbones. Really, he wanted to run his hands all over this man’s whole body and worship it the way it deserved to be. 

Michael was staring at him, a small sound leaving his perfect mouth as Greg gave him what he hoped was a winning smile. As they stood staring at each other, Greg felt himself become completely lost in Michael’s eyes. They were the most beautiful light gray. Greg had never seen eyes such a color before - they were stunning. He moved a step closer just as the door burst open to reveal Connor. 

“Greg! What the fuck?!” Connor shouted as Anthea appeared at his side. Hugh had obviously been distracted elsewhere and was fairly useless as security other than the visual threat anyway.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she started. Michael waved her off. 

Greg turned his gaze from Michael towards Connor. “What do you mean - what the fuck, what?” 

“You attacked Bobby then disappeared? What is going on Greg? Who the fuck is this?” 

“Yea, so? You didn’t even notice,” Greg shrugged.

Michael stepped beside Greg facing Connor. “Excuse me, but this is a private matter. Please return to the floor and Gregory will join you shortly. Anthea if you would, please.”

“Yes, sir.” Anthea reached a hand to guide Connor away. 

Connor gave a look like he wasn’t going to leave Greg there but Michael stood his ground.Greg just shook his head at Connor. A scream from below caught their attention and it seemed Diane had won something. Connor didn’t wait to argue further, he simply ran back out of the office to see what Diane had won, leaving Greg alone once again.

Michael turned towards him, giving a look of sympathy.. “How long have you been together?”

Greg was taken aback at the question. “About nine months. Nothing major really.” He shrugged.

“Yet you planned to beat up a drug dealer for selling to him?” 

“Yea, well I have seen what drugs can do to a person and I don’t want that for him.” 

Michael seemed to be considering Greg’s words thoughtfully as he moved around the room. “Well, do try to keep it from my place of business next time. You may go.” He waved an absent hand towards the door.

Greg was torn between leaving to join Connor and wanting to get to know Michael better, when Anthea showed up at the door. She flashed him a look that said “You better go now or else”, so Greg left, not wanting to face Hugh again. 

As he reached the floor below, he cast his eyes up to the windows, finding Michael watching him with what looked like a longing… But he had been so quick to dismiss Greg after Connor had come up there. 

_ Could there be more than meets the eye with Michael? What was he hiding behind that suit and tie? _ Greg decided he wanted to know what kind of man took law classes by day and ran an illegal gambling hall by night.

He wanted to get to know the man under the fancy clothes. Not just intimately, though that would be nice as well. But he wanted to know Michael. _ What was his childhood like and who was his favorite band? Did he have plans after college? Was he going to be a lawyer or did he have bigger plans?  _ Greg wanted to know everything there was to know. 

As he headed for Connor and the rest of the group, he started planning for the next time he would have a chance to speak with Michael Hunt. Because there would definitely be a next time if he had any say in the matter. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 is here. Greg meets Scott (Sherlock) and deals with Connor. Hope you enjoy. <3

**Chapter 6**

Mycroft entered their apartment to utter quiet. There was no noise from Sherlock at all. This was starting to become a habit over the last few weeks. After the night he and Gregory had met at the Hall Mycroft had come home to find Sherlock missing, and after a long search, had finally located him high on drugs in an abandoned house on Second Street. Since then, Mycroft had taken to showing up at odd times to check on his brother. Now he had returned once again to an empty apartment.

“Sherlock?” Mycroft started moving through the small rooms in search of his brother. Checking his watch, he noted the time was after 1am.  _ Where could Sherlock be this time? _

Digging in his jacket for his phone, he quickly sent off a text.

**Sent 1:05:**

Sherlock, where are you? You should be home. 

**Received 1:05:**

Fuck off. 

**Sent 1:06:**

Grow up and tell me where you are. 

**Received 1:07:**

No 

**Sent 1:08:**

Sherlock, I am going to ask once more, where are you? 

**Sent 1:11:**   
Sherlock?

**Sent 1:15** :

Answer me!

**Sent 1:20:**

Please. 

After not receiving any more responses from Sherlock, Mycroft did a quick check of the roof before heading back out into the night. He only had a short time to search - he had to get back to the hall by 2am. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Greg was angry that he had to be out searching for Connor on this rainy cold night.  _ Why was this his problem? _ Conner had become someone else lately. Greg could never find him and when he did, the boy was always high as a kite. Greg was done trying to save him if he didn't want to be saved.  _ Yet here I am. _

This was the last place he was going to look for the night. It was one of the many run down houses he had found Connor in before. As he pushed open the door and entered the house, he had to hold his breath to stop from gagging at the smell.  _ How could people stand to be in this sort of place? _

After dealing with his father's addiction, Greg wanted nothing to do with drugs and only drank a bit socially. Connor, on the other hand, was fast becoming Greg’s father and Greg wasn’t going down that road again.

As he searched the rooms for any sign of Connor, he came across a boy no more than 17 years old, lying on a dirty mattress on a broken bed in a second- floor room. His hair was matted and dirty. The sight reminded Greg of what he could have become, had he stayed around his dad.

He checked on the boy as he had yet to find anyone else in the house. 

"Hey, you okay kid?" 

There was a groan before the boy rolled over. "I am not a kid." 

Greg would have laughed if the sight wasn't so sad. " Yeah okay, sorry. You okay though?" 

"No, I don't think so. It's never lasted this long. I-" 

"Are you here alone? Do you need a hospital? Or can I call someone for you?" 

The boy huffed then began to cough to the point of gagging. 

"You know what? Let's get you out of here.." Greg put his arms around the boy, lifted him up and carried him out of the house. Thankfully the boy weighed next to nothing and was too out of it to argue or fight him. 

Once outside, Greg maneuvered the boy into the front seat of his car, pulling the seat belt around him before shutting the door and going around to the driver side. 

"Where are you taking me?" the boy asked quietly, barely a whisper. 

"Well, for now back to my place. That okay?" 

"He is going to be mad…" 

“Who?” Greg questioned, glancing over at the kid as he started the car and pulled out onto the street. The boy didn’t answer.

Greg wasn’t sure why he wanted to help this kid. Maybe to stop him from being a lost cause like Greg was realizing Connor had become. 

In the fifteen minutes it took for them to reach Greg’s apartment, the kid had fallen asleep leaning against the car door. Greg parked and turned off the engine before getting out and moving around the car to open the passenger door carefully. 

“Hey, can you wake up long enough to get inside? Don’t really want to carry you up the stairs, let alone what my neighbors would think.” 

The boy made a noise in protest, but slid out of the car to follow Greg into the building and up the stairs. Once inside, Greg helped him onto his couch, moving to the closet in his room for the extra blankets and a pillow. When he flipped the light on in his bedroom, he was graced with the sight of Connor half dressed and passed out in the middle of his bed. 

Greg could feel his blood boil at just the sight. He had been out searching for Connor for hours and here he was sleeping.  _ Couldn’t answer a text or call but he could show up and just use my bed.  _

Greg decided to deal with that later, as right now he had someone else to look after. Someone who still might have a chance at a different life. Greg gathered the extra blankets and pillow, returning to the living room. Once he made sure the boy was all set and comfortable for the night, Greg decided it was time to deal with the lump on his bed. 

He entered the bedroom again, shutting the door behind him. “Hey! Wake up!” Greg smacked Connor’s shoulder before giving him a shake. 

“What the hell, I’m sleeping.” Connor grumbled, rolling away from Greg.

“Wake up and get out of my house.” Greg continued, picking up Connor’s clothes, tossing them at the bed. 

“Why?” Connor sat up more now. “What’s your deal?”

“My deal is you. I’m out looking for your drugged ass all night, only to find you here. Why the fuck couldn’t you answer my texts or calls?” Greg started pacing around the room. “I can’t do this anymore, Connor. I can’t watch you do this to yourself and feel helpless to do anything. It's not working.”

“What?” Connor was awake now, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “Are you breaking up with me over-- over this?” He gestured around him. “A few missed calls and texts, a couple recreational drugs and we are just done?” 

“A couple? Connor, it’s been more than just a couple! But yes, that’s what I’m saying.” Greg was trying not to shout. He didn’t need to wake the kid up to hear all of this. “Don’t act surprised, this has been a long time coming, Connor. You know it has. It’s not been working for a while. This has been going on for quite a while." 

Connor got off the bed, moving towards Greg. “You know, I heard this about you,” he said, angrily collecting his clothes, pulling his jeans on in a huff.

“What do you mean, you heard this about me? From who?” Greg was angry but also curious. He shouldn’t ask, he really just wanted Connor gone. 

“I've talked to others who’ve dated you and they all told me that you get bored and drop them fast.” 

Greg just shook his head. “Who did you even talk to?”

“Alicia and Collin, James also had some things to say about your dating habits,” Connor spat as he finished dressing. “And now I see that they were right.” 

“Did they tell you anything else? Like that Alicia was cheating on me? Or that Collin stole from me? Or that I never even dated James? No! Just their sob stories then - just one side and nothing more. If you believe all that then you just made me realize I’m making the right choice.” 

Connor stared at him with anger-filled eyes before turning and marching out of the bedroom to the living room. Greg scrubbed his hands over his face then followed him out. 

“And what is this?!” Connor shouted, pointing at the kid on the couch, sleeping. “Trading up already! Is that why you’re breaking up with me?” 

“No I found him at that crazy house on Williams Street while I was out searching for your ass tonight. And keep your voice down, he’s not well.” 

“Should have known you would ditch me for someone younger. I can’t believe you would date him though.” 

“Him? You know who he is?”

“Of course, everyone does. That’s Michael Hunt’s younger brother. He's all over the drug scene right now. I have seen him at the Hall a couple of times. Always gets sent home. Heard he’s as crazy as his brother,” Connor replied, hotly. 

Greg looked back at the kid, and now he could see the resemblance between the brothers. “I don’t want to listen to any more from you.. But look, for what it's worth, I am sorry Connor. I just can’t do this anymore.” 

“Oh fuck you, Greg!” Connor grabbed the last of his things, opening the door. “I hope you and the kid will be very happy together. Though funny you would break up with me for a druggy and have the audacity to say it's because I do a few recreational drugs.”

“I am not dating him!” Greg yelled, but Connor had already slammed the door closed. 

“I wouldn’t date you anyways. You're old.” The kid spoke from the couch. 

“Gee thanks.” Greg turned back to him. “What’s your name anyhow?” 

“Why? You already know who I am.” 

“No I don’t. I didn’t even know Michael had a brother.”

“First name basis? I’m not surprised. Michael never talks about me. I am just a burden, his cross to bear.” 

Greg watched the hurt and anger flash across the kid’s face. “We should let your brother know where you are. He must be worried. What are you, like, fifteen?” 

“Seventeen, and he won’t care. He isn’t home anyways. Out with her.” 

Greg felt his heart drop a little. Michael had a girlfriend? Maybe the rumours of him being gay weren’t true after all. He really shouldn’t listen to the rumors anyways. 

“Oh god. Not like that. What’s with your face? Oh god, you can’t possibly like my brother. He is horrible.” 

Greg stepped out of his mind and back into his living room. “I just. No I--We are just--well I would like to be friends.”

The boy stared at him like the bumbling idiot he was.

“Nevermind. Go to sleep.” Greg went back to his room, finding a clean pair of pyjamas to wear, then entered the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for bed. He wished there was a way to contact Michael, but he had no number for him at all. He wondered if the boy was sleeping yet, so he could search his phone. 

He waited impatiently in his room, hoping the boy had fallen back to sleep and then crept slowly back to the living room. He checked the pockets of the boy’s coat. In one of the inside pockets, he found what he was looking for. Scrolling through, he found only three numbers. An MH, a John, and a Mrs Hudson. 

Greg hoped that MH stood for Michael Hunt - if not, he wasn't sure what to try next. His first thought was Mrs Hudson, but he didn't know what the kid was to her. No reason to get more people involved. 

Greg programmed MH’s number into his own phone before returning the phone back into the boy’s coat and returning to his bedroom. He checked the time, 3:30am.  _ Text may be better than a call. No need to scare the man. _

**Sent 2:31:**

Hey, this is Greg Lestrade. I have found a young man in trouble with this number on his phone. I wanted to let you know I have him at my apartment right now. I found him earlier tonight and brought him home. I didn’t want anyone to worry. 

**Received 2:34:**

Thank you Gregory. This is Michael and I have been worried sick about my brother. Where are you? I will come get him now.

**Sent 2:36:**

Michael Hunt? It’s okay, it's late and he is okay here for the night. 1050 Cherry Street, apt 3.

Greg watched the three dots appear and disappear several times before a message showed up. 

**Received 2:39:**

I will be there first thing. I am so sorry to have inconvenienced you. Thank you for finding him. 

**Sent 2:42:**

No worries. Happy to help.. 

After waiting a bit with no reply, Greg plugged his phone in and lay down. Tomorrow Michael was coming to his apartment, because Greg had his little brother on his couch.  _ Guess I will be getting to see Michael sooner than I thought _ . He slowly drifted off with thoughts of kissing Michael and holding his hand. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft (Michael) comes to pick up his brother. Sherlock is a bit not good and a typical little brother.

**Chapter 7**

Mycroft set down his phone and dropped his head into his hands.  _ Safe. Thank God. _ Mycroft had been so worried about Sherlock. To find out he was safe and with Gregory, Mycroft was able to relax for a moment. He hoped that Mr Hudson would not be informed of this new Sherlock development. He had been doing his best to keep it from getting out. The only upside of tonight was that he would get to see Gregory again. 

Part of him was looking forward to it, though wishing it was under different circumstances. How to explain Sherlock and the drugs, which would lead to questions about why they were alone. Then questions about his parents always followed and he would like to avoid talking about them at all costs. Anything to do with their situation and their identities needed to be kept under lock and key. 

The fewer people who knew anything, the better. There was something about Gregory that seemed trustworthy, but Mycroft was not the trusting type. Even though he wanted so badly to have someone like Gregory on his side, to confide in. But he couldn’t risk it. Not now.

"Mycroft?" Anthea called from the door. 

"Yes?" 

"Just a heads up. I received a message from the big boss that he will be here on Tuesday. Wants to check up on everything."

Mycroft looked up from his hands at where Anthea stood in the door. “Why?” 

“Don’t know. Just wrote earlier tonight to let me know.” Anthea shrugged, looking down at her nails. 

“Okay. Are our books in order for tonight?”

“Yup. All taken care of. Tonight was a good night.”

“Good. Thank you.” Mycroft felt his nerves multiply with this new development. 

“Did you find him?” Anthea questioned. 

“Sorry?” 

“Your brother?”

“Oh, yes, well rather, someone else did and has informed me that he is safe.” 

“Good.” Anthea turned walking back out the door, closing it behind her. 

Mycroft stood from the chair and made his way to the window looking out at the gambling floor.  _ Why would Mr Hudson be coming up now? Things have been good. I’ve been depositing the money each night as ordered, checking and rechecking the books a million times before sending the numbers to him. Please don’t let it have anything to do with Sherlock. Not now.  _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Greg woke to loud knocking. Dragging his butt out of bed and towards the door took all he had.  _ Who was knocking this early? Probably Mrs Camron next door looking for her cat. _

“I haven’t seen Mr Bubbles, Mrs Camron!” Greg rubbed his hands across his face, vaguely remembered what the lump on his couch was as he passed by. More knocking. 

“I’m not lying! I haven’t—”Greg stopped mid sentence when he opened the door to Michael looking surprised by his tirade. “Oh uh. Hey, Mike. Sorry, uhm, Michael. I thought you were the lady across the hall searching for her cat.”

“Mr. Bubbles, I presume?” Michael provided. He was dressed more casually than Greg had ever seen him -in dark jeans and a navy sweater. No tie, no dress shirt or slacks. He looked gorgeous as ever.

“Yea,” Greg laughed a bit, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. “Won’t you come in?” He stepped back, opening the door wider, allowing Mike to enter his apartment. “Sorry, it's not much. Your brother is still sleeping. Want some coffee?”

Michael nodded, moving into the room. Greg turned for the kitchen, calling over his shoulder. 

“Just make yourself comfortable.”

Once in the kitchen, Greg realized that he was only half dressed. What a way to open the door, he thought as he looked down to see he was only in his boxers and had a sizable morning erection.  _ Great second impression _ . No wonder Michael barely spoke to him. He turned the coffee pot on and hurried to his room for some clothes. “Back in a sec, just let me put on some clothes, sorry,” he said embarrassed as he shuffled out.

He returned to the kitchen, feeling more comfortable in more clothing, and grabbed two cups out of the cupboard. Pouring the coffee into each cup, he then moved towards the living room where he found Michael, standing near the couch watching his brother sleep. 

“He seems okay. A bit out of it last night though.” Greg handed Michael the mug and moved to sit in a chair, gesturing towards the other for Michael. 

“Did he say anything? Maybe tell you what he took?” Michael took a sip from the mug, barely taking his eyes from the kid. 

Greg knew that look. The look of someone who was worried sick and felt like he was failing. “You know it’s not your fault right?” he offered.

“Sorry?” Michael looked up in surprise.

“It’s not your fault that this happened,” Greg repeated. 

“Yes it is. I am— I am responsible for him.” Michael’s voice wobbled a bit, as he stared at his cup, not meeting Greg’s eyes. 

Greg wanted to comfort him, reach out and pull him close.  _ But would Michael welcome that? _ As he began to gather courage to do just that, the kid on the couch stirred awake. 

“Get a room already.” The kid spat rudely as he slowly sat up, looking at Michael. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“Hey, I texted him, and don’t treat your brother like that in my house.” Greg wasn’t going to stand for any talk like that towards Michael while he was sitting right here, even from his own brother. Though he did enjoy the blush on Mike’s face at his brother’s words to “get a room”. The kid turned to him, eyeing him up and down. 

“Really? You just break up with one, now you’re after this one?” He nodded towards Michael, with a look of disgust. 

“What are you going on about?” Greg questioned. 

“I heard you last night with that boy. Breaking his heart for what? For Mycroft?”

“Who’s Mycroft?” Greg looked at Michael questioning, only to find him looking completely uncomfortable and upset by his brother's words. 

“Oh that's right, I forgot...  _ Michael _ .” The kid said aggressively.. 

“Brother, please don’t.” Michael pleaded, his eyes filled with fear. 

Greg didn’t know what was happening, but there was definitely something going down between the brothers. “Why don’t you go use my shower and clean yourself up kid? Maybe chill and have some coffee.” 

“I am not a kid. My name is Sher—” 

“Scott, we really should be going home.” Michael jumped in, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

Scott sneered at Michael before standing, his legs a bit shaky. “I think I will have a shower and some coffee first actually.” With that he left the room, the shower starting shortly after. 

“There’s spare towels in the cupboard,” Greg yelled towards the bathroom to no response before looking back at Mike apologetically.

“Gregory, I—”

“I’m sorry Mike. If you needed to go, I wouldn’t have suggested the shower.” Greg felt like he was just making a bad situation worse at every turn.

“No it’s— it’s okay.” Michael took a sip of coffee, looking around the apartment, everywhere but at Greg. 

Greg wanted to ease Michael’s obvious pain. He stood slowly, crossing to kneel in front of him, looking him straight in the eyes. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but I meant what I said about it not being your fault. He’s old enough to make his own choices. Not your burden to bear.”

“If not mine then whose? Who else is going to watch out for him?” Mike set his mug down, looking at Greg. “You don’t understand. You don’t know.” 

“I would like to understand and I would like to help you.” Greg reached for Michael’s hands, only to have them pulled away as Mike leaned back.

“Why? Why would you want to? You don’t know me. We are from completely different worlds.” 

Greg flinched. Mike was right, they were from different worlds, but Greg had hoped that it wouldn’t get between them or be a deciding factor in this. “I know but, I guess I was hoping to get to know you some more. To maybe change that.” He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to reach for Mike’s hands again, to hold them. Maybe bring comfort to the man. 

Mike stared into Greg’s eyes as though he was looking for something. “You mean that, don’t you?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.” Greg realized he was still kneeling in front of him, looking up as Scott returned from his shower. He was already dressed, his hair still wet but he looked much better than he had earlier.

“God, you two are sickening. Could you not, in front of me? Can we just go, I am sure you can see your boyfriend another time.” Scott picked up his coat and moved towards the door, looking back at Mike for a moment. 

Greg was taken aback at how cruel the words were, coming out of Scott's mouth. He looked at Mike to find him visibly upset from the words. Like it upset him to be called Greg’s boyfriend. _So probably no chance for that after all._ _Maybe they could still be friends though?_

“Brother, I will kindly ask that you cease such talk and thank Gregory for finding you and bringing you home.” Mike said, seemingly embarrassed and trying to recover from his brother’s words.

Scott huffed. “I was in no real danger last night.” 

“That’s not how it seemed to me last night, kid.” Greg countered as he stood, moving away from Mike. 

“I am not a kid!” Scott shot back his voice filled with anger. 

“Then stop acting like one and start treating your brother with some respect.” Greg took a few steps towards Scott. 

“What are you, my brother’s knight in shining armor now? Excuse me while I relieve myself of the contents of my stomach.” 

“That is enough! Scott, please go downstairs to the car and wait for me.” Mike said forcefully as he stood moving towards the door as well. 

“Why? So you can snog your boyfriend?” Scott shot back but left the apartment without waiting for a response.. 

“Please forgive my brother, he— uhm— just gets angry with me.” Mike looked towards the door before meeting Greg’s eyes. “Thank you for what you did last night. I am sorry for any trouble that it may have caused you.” Mike nodded then opened the door and was gone before Greg had a chance to reply. 

He stood staring at the closed door for several minutes, replaying all the things he should have said to Mike. He realized at some point he had started thinking of him as Mike and not Michael. Greg went over the interactions between them. He wondered if it had been too forward of him to kneel in front of Mike, gazing so intimately into his eyes. 

While thinking about this, he slowly started cleaning up the mugs, putting them in the sink, then began to plan his day moving forward. A quiet Sunday morning, nothing going on, especially now that he was apparently single again. He really should have handled that a bit better, but it was done now.

Greg’s head snapped up at the sound of knocking at his door.  _ Mike? _ He practically flew to the door, flinging it open, hoping to find Mike on the other side, only to see Mrs Camron looking for Mr Bubbles. Poor cat, if he had to deal with that woman every day he would run away too. 

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Mycroft silently rode in the front of Anthea’s car as she drove him and Sherlock back to their flat. Sherlock was sulking terribly in the back seat and Mycroft was lost in his thoughts, going over the events at Gregory’s. He was angry at Sherlock, but they couldn’t talk about it now, not with Anthea in the car. 

When they arrived finally, Mycroft thanked Anthea for the ride then followed Sherlock through the door and up the stairs. 

Once inside, Mycroft dropped his coat on the hook by the door and turned on Sherlock. “Do you realize brother, what you almost did? You almost gave not only your real name, but mine as well… You know why that is a bad idea.” Mycroft’s blood was boiling. He was humiliated and would never be able to talk to Gregory again at this point.  _ Not that it was a good idea anyway. _ "You know why we can't tell people who we are."

"John knew." Sherlock threw back.

"You never should have told John your real name. I'm sorry that he left, but if Mr Hudson found out, we would be in a lot of trouble." Mycroft sank into his chair, leaning his head back. 

"Mr Hudson can shove it." Sherlock announced as he flopped across the couch, facing the back. 

Mycroft flinched before replying. "Well, you can tell him that yourself if you want to be so bold. He is coming here on Tuesday." 

Sherlock sat up quickly in surprise to face Mycroft. "Why? What did you do?" 

"I haven't done anything.” Mycroft replied defensively. “Everything is in order. I don't know why he is coming up here now. Frankly I'm a bit worried." 

He could feel Sherlock watching him from the couch. He looked at his brother to see he was also concerned and looking a bit guilty even. "This doesn't get you off the hook for what happened at Gregory's. Also you should have thanked him for helping you out last night." 

Sherlock huffed. "I'm sure you thanked him enough for the both of us." 

Mycroft decided to ignore the comment. "Sherlock, can I ask why?"

"Why what? Oh, just spit it out, brother." 

"Why drugs? And why are you cutting John out of your life? " 

Sherlock shrugged, lying back down on the couch. "Why not?" 

"He is your best friend. He doesn't understand what he did to make you cut him off." 

Sherlock sat up again. "When did you speak to him? Just stay away from him," 

Mycroft shook his head at the statement then watched as Sherlock growled, pushed up from the couch.

"He came to me before he shipped out, little brother. I did not seek him out, He was worried about you. Why must everything be a battle with you?" Sherlock didn’t reply, but stalked to his room and slammed the door shut in answer. Mycroft leaned back in his chair again and took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

Everything was always a struggle with Sherlock. They didn’t used to be like this. Before everything happened and their lives fell apart, they had been quite close as brothers. He remembered how they used to spend hours out in the garden, Mycroft reading a book while Sherlock chased after bees. He would spout all kinds of facts to Mycroft about them. How long they slept. Which flowers they liked best. He would talk about their honey dance. How much Mycroft wished that they could go back to those times. 

A foolhardy dream, life would never go back to the way it was. They were doomed, cursed some might say. Mycroft closed his eyes for a moment and let his mind wander to a dark haired boy with piercings and smoldering eyes that threatened to set his body afire. Seeing Gregory this morning barely dressed in all of his glory was almost more than Mycroft could handle. He wanted to reach out and touch him, just barely reining himself in. 

It wouldn’t be good to lose control now. He was far too busy for such dalliances at this time. He needed to dig deep and bring more of his self control to the surface. He needed to stay far away from Gregory - especially with Mr Hudson arriving this week - and remember that his life was not yet his own. Maybe after everything was over, he could find Gregory and see where things went then.  _ Maybe. _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Greg entered the classroom a few minutes early hoping to catch up on a paper that was due in the next class. Nothing like waiting until the last minute. He just found his seat and began working on his paper, when he heard footsteps approach and pause near him. 

Looking up, Greg gazed straight into the eyes of none other than the object of his dreams all weekend: Michael Hunt. 

“Hey, how are you?” He grinned up at Michael. 

“Hello, Gregory.” Michael nodded towards Greg’s paper. “I see you are still working on the homework for Mr Spegal’s class. You should know that he is out sick and will not require this particular paper until Thursday at the earliest.”

“Oh really? That's awesome! How do you know that?” Greg began to gather the pages, feeling a sigh of relief that he no longer needed to bust his butt to finish it in the next five minutes.

“I overheard him tell Mrs Spencer in the office earlier today.” Michael shifted on his feet. “I noticed you were working on that assignment and thought I should let you know.” 

“Well, thanks for sharing that info. So how are you? Since you didn’t answer my question.” Greg smiled, putting his paper back in his bag so that he could focus on Mike. 

“I am well. Thank you for asking.” Michael shifted again, looking around. “I am afraid I must find my seat now as Mr Johnson has arrived.” 

Mike turned to walk away, but Greg quickly reached for his arm. “Hey, you want to sit with me today? No one ever sits right here.” He nodded towards the chair on his left. 

Greg knew it was a long shot. Mike always sat at the front away from everyone. He seemed to be comfortable keeping everyone at a distance. But Mike seemed to be actually thinking about it and Greg waited hopefully for a few moments, watching Mike wrestle with the offer. Just when Greg was going to say  _ nevermind, it's okay you don’t have to sit here, _ Mike seemed to make up his mind, stepping in front of Greg to move into the seat on his left. 

Greg just smiled at him, feeling like a small battle had been won. Not that this was really a battle, but it seemed like Mike could use a friend and maybe down the road, there was hope yet that something else could come of this. He hadn’t expected Mike to even be willing to sit this close, perhaps this was a sign he had a chance. If Greg could ever be so lucky. 

“Anything you know about this class that I should know?” he joked, trying to help Mike relax. 

Mike pondered for a moment. “Mr Johnson is having a rough week after his wife left him on the weekend. He will most likely not give us the quiz as he doesn’t feel like grading the papers this week. He will just have us review what we have already learned.” 

Greg could only stare at Mike as he pushed his glasses back up his nose and pulled out a notebook. He started to wonder what Mike would look like with his hair less slicked back, without those glasses in the way, when Mr Johnson entered the room interrupting his thoughts.. 

As Mike had predicted, he announced to the class that they would just be reviewing past chapters as he moved to his desk to sit. Mike looked over to Greg with a raised eyebrow before going back to making notes. Greg just shook his head, smiling. _ How could Mike have known that? _

Greg dug around in his bag for his book and began a lazy hour of review. After reading a few pages, he glanced towards Mike, to find him staring at his phone, a strange look on his face. 

“Hey, you okay?” Greg asked quietly.

“Hmmhm.” Mike seemed confused for a moment, looking between Greg and his phone like he didn’t know what to do. 

“Has something happened. Is Scott okay?” 

“Who? Oh uhm yea. He is fine. Just a message from a friend. Uhm Anthea.” Mike was very flustered. 

Greg wasn’t sure what to make of it all. “Girlfriend?” he questioned, crossing his fingers that it wasn’t the case.

Mike looked up surprised. “No, she's— uhm she’s just a friend. She helps me with work. You met her at the Hall."

It was Greg’s turn to give a raised eyebrow, questioning the words spilling out of Mike’s mouth. “Okay, well is she okay? Your friend? Not your girlfriend.” He couldn’t help grinning a bit at the last part. 

“Yes, she is just letting me know that someone I was expecting to arrive tomorrow is not coming after all. I was just surprised that’s all. Sorry. Nothing to worry about.” 

But Greg didn’t quite believe that. “No worries, didn’t mean to pry just making sure everything was okay. How has Scott been? Any more running off?” 

Mike paused, not answering right away or looking up from his phone. “He has always done his own thing. Worse now though it seems. I have no control no matter how much I try to help him, it just seems to make everything worse.” Mike let out a sigh, closing his phone and sliding it away. 

“I’m sorry. Your parents are no help then? How come it’s just you guys?” Greg was getting a bit curious about Mike’s home life, more than he really had a right too. 

“Uhm, no parents. They died, almost— well some time ago.” Mike fidgeted in his seat, picking his pen back up. 

“Oh geez, I’m sorry.” Greg was really putting his foot in it at every turn. “Mine are not the greatest. My mom was okay, but my dad, well I could do without him.” 

Mike didn’t answer, he just seemed to be busily writing in his notebook.  _ Well, that’s that then. _ Greg decided Mike obviously didn’t want to know about his horrible parents or bad childhood. Not that he could blame him. No one ever wanted to hear about those things, or when he did tell them, they never knew what to say in response. Not that Greg needed to hear anything back. What could anyone say about it really? But he should have just kept his mouth shut about himself and just said he was sorry for Mike’s loss. He was obviously not interested in hearing more about Greg’s life.

_ When would he learn? _

~~~~~~~~

Mycroft tried to keep his hands from shaking as he went over the text from Anthea. Mr Hudson had been delayed and wouldn’t be here for a bit yet.  _ How had his luck changed just a bit _ ? He wasn’t going to look this gift horse in the mouth. He was going to get a few things taken care of while he had time. First thing, was getting Sherlock straightened out. Sherlock was definitely his weakness and he didn’t want Mr Hudson to have any reason to take advantage of that and use Sherlock against him.

Stepping back out of his mind, Mycroft noticed Gregory had grown very quiet beside him. What had they been talking about? Parents? Bad childhood?  _ Oh!  _ He had shared something important and Mycroft had ignored him. Oh no, this wasn’t good. 

“Gregory, I—.”

“It’s all good Mike. Look I have to get going. I will see you around.” Gregory gathered his books and walked out of the room in the middle of class. Mycroft could only stare after him.  _ Well, that went great. Way to go, Mycroft. _


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Mycroft spent the rest of the day reprimanding himself. He should have been paying better attention. Now, Gregory was avoiding him in the rest of the classes. Not looking his way or trying to catch his eye. Well, it was safer for Gregory anyway.  _ Need to remember that. _

Four days later, he still had not talked to Gregory and he was trying to focus on the fact that it was better this way. For both of them. After classes finished, he caught the bus across town to his internship, but Mycroft was still thinking about Gregory and their conversation days ago. He couldn’t shake the guilt he felt for the way he had handled it all and as much as he knew he should stay away, he kept thinking he should do something about it. 

As he reached the Law office of Turner, Turner and Turner, he tried to put the thoughts on the back burner. The elder two Turners were good men, but the younger Turner had it out for Mycroft. There was always a mountain of paperwork for him to copy and fill out. It felt like a waste of time, but he was here to learn as much as he could, so he could prove his innocence in a court of law. He needed to focus and keep the younger Turner happy. It was a fairly painful way to pass the time and he was still managing to learn something as he worked, although today admittedly, his mind kept wandering to thoughts of Gregory and how he could find a way to apologize for being distracted and insensitive.

Before he knew it Anthea was texting to say that she was downstairs and it was time to go to work at the Hall. He sent a quick text, checking on Sherlock only to received a  _ Fuck off  _ text back. He had so much on his plate today that he had to just hope that Sherlock was staying out of trouble, for tonight at least.

Later that night, Mycroft watched the first patrons arrive from his office window, young adults unwittingly ready and willing to lose their money to his well devised games. The night began the same as always, until  _ he _ walked in. Mycroft could only watch, his dark, unruly hair standing out in the crowd. He moved with ease through the throes of nameless people. The other people Mycroft couldn't care less about. As Mycroft watched him, his heart beat just a little different. _ Why? Why did this singular boy set his heart off? _ Mycroft wanted just once to be selfish and carefree. 

He sighed, turning from the window. He couldn't bring himself to continue watching Gregory interact with other people below him; it made his heart ache with longing. 

He was busy updating the books when there was a knock at the door. “Yes, come in Anthea.” 

Instead, Gregory’s head popped through the door. “Uhm, sorry not Anthea. Is it still okay?” 

“Oh, uhm, Gregory, yes please come in.” Mycroft closed the book he was working on and set down his pen.

“Look I wanted to apologize for the last couple of days.” Gregory said, scuffing his feet a bit, looking down. 

“It is I that should apologize to you, Gregory. I am afraid I was very distracted the last time we spoke and I missed responding to something you shared, that may have been difficult for you to do so. For that I am sorry.” Mycroft stood and walked around his desk, coming to a stop in front of the slightly shorter boy. “Shall we call it even?”

“Yea, that would be good.” Greg looked up, smiling. Mycroft felt like Gregory’s smile could light up the whole room. A bright light in the darkness, a beacon of hope in an otherwise hopeless place. 

As they stood close, sharing a smile, the room around them became quiet and peaceful. Like they were the only two people in the world. Which is why neither noticed right away that the gates to hell seemed to open and chaos erupted from downstairs. Neither of them moved or spoke until Gregory noticed the noises and jumped, moving to the window. 

“Shit! Mike! You have to get out of here!” He turned shoving Mycroft towards the back of the room, where the fire escape was. 

“What is going on?!” Mycroft scrambled for his desk, grabbing the books and briefcase of money. 

“There are cops raiding the building! You need to get out! If they catch you running this, you will get years! GO!” Greg continued to shove him towards the door. 

“Oh god! They can’t find me here!” Mycroft was panicking. If the cops found him, not only would he be done for running this place, but for everything else. If his name hit the system, it would get back to the wrong people and Mycroft’s life would be over. 

He grabbed what he needed and hit the door at a run, Gregory following close behind. They climbed down the fire escape in a flurry but as they reached the bottom, a cop rounded the corner of the building running straight into them. Gregory pushed Mycroft out of the way, knocking the cop down before he had time to react. 

Mycroft clutched the briefcase close and made a run for it. He heard Gregory yell to keep going as he tumbled to the ground with the cop on top of him. Fear coursed through Mycroft’s veins, he wanted to help, but he would be no good to either of them if they both were arrested. 

He hoped that Anthea made it out of the building as he hurried down the street until he reached home. Once inside he leaned against the door, breathing heavily, the briefcase still clenched tightly in his shaking hands.  _ What a mess. What am I going to do now? Do I dare message Greg to see if he made it out safely? What if the cops have him? Could they find me through Greg’s phone.  _ Mycroft felt his panic rising again. 

_ Just breathe. Remember to breathe. You can’t fix anything if you hyperventilate. Breathe in, breathe out. One step at a time. Gregory doesn’t know my real name, _ Mycroft reminded himself. So the name in Gregory’s phone - if there was one - wouldn’t give him away. One small miracle. Step two, wait to see if Gregory reaches out first. If he is not in class then go from there. 

Mycroft was feeling a bit better, when Sherlock came out of his room and saw him by the door. 

“What happened to you?” he said offhandedly, moving towards the kitchen. 

“Nothing, it's nothing.” Mycroft was glad his voice didn’t sound as shaky as he felt. 

“Whatever,” Sherlock replied, over his shoulder. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with a bust in the warehouse district would it?” 

“What do you know about that?” Mycroft was off the door and across the flat, mere inches from Sherlock in seconds. “What have you heard? Tell me!” 

“Geez, calm down. I heard from a friend that they were raiding in the warehouse district tonight.”

“Who is this friend? You never talk to anyone since John left.” Mycroft didn’t know if it was more fear or anger that was driving him right now. He knew it was a bit cruel to mention John, but his nerves were on edge. 

“I have other friends,” Sherlock shot back, smugly. “And they happen to know what’s going on in this city all the time.” 

“Sherlock, who have you been talking to? Please tell me it’s not a cop.” Mycroft was barely holding himself together at this point. He was almost busted tonight and finding out that Sherlock knew but said nothing to him made him furious. He scrubbed his hands over his face. He needed to pull himself together. 

Sherlock would be no help if he knew Mycroft was falling apart. He would only gloat and continue to be unhelpful as long as it upset Mycroft. This was their new normal, this was what they did.  _ How he wanted his brother back…. _


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Greg had made it home after hours of being held. He had crashed for three hours of sleep before getting up to get to work on time. The cops had found there was nothing to charge him with besides assaulting an officer. He had pleaded that he hadn’t realized the guy was a cop when he ran into him. 

Greg was pretty sure they were going to throw the book at him, but then his uncle arrived and vouched for him. Now, what was Greg going to do about that? His uncle would certainly hold that over Greg’s head for the foreseeable future. Just what he needed, to be owing his cop uncle. For a brief moment he had thought he would have rather spent time in jail instead. His uncle was a good guy, but being in his debt could mean helping him with just about anything. And it wasn't always pleasant. 

When Greg unlocked his door, finally home from work, there was a note that looked like it had been slid underneath at some point while he was gone.

It read: 

**Please contact me when it’s safe.**

**MH**

Greg knew right away it was from Michael. He must have been worried and wanted to check on him after what happened. Greg fished his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through for Michael’s number - he was glad he had saved it to his contacts, the night he helped Scott. Hitting the dial button, he waited.

“Hello? Gregory?” 

“Hey, Mike, I just wanted to let you know that I'm home now and I’m okay.” Greg walked as he talked, checking his fridge for food. 

“I am glad to hear that. Are you in any kind of trouble?” Mike sounded worried and it was endearing to Greg that someone he barely knew could care about his well being.

“Not really, they couldn’t really prove anything. Though they may try later. I am good for now. How about you? Are you okay? Anything happened since?”

“No, nothing has happened. I am thinking about closing the hall for a bit until things cool down. What are you doing now?”

Greg huffed a small laugh. “I am staring in my fridge, trying to will food to appear. What do you think my chances are?”

“I could... maybe bring you some?” His voice was timid and a bit nervous. Greg smiled at the thought of Mike bringing him food, maybe even sharing it with him. 

“I would hate for you to go out of your way.” 

“It would be no trouble, and the least I could do after what you did for me.” Mike replied.

“Well, that would be awesome, actually. Frankly I am too tired to deal with finding anything.” Greg closed his fridge and moved to his couch. “You sure it’s not too much trouble?” 

“No, no trouble. I could be there with food in an hour? Sound ok?” 

“That's awesome, Hey Mike?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.” Greg wanted to say so much more but there would be time for that later. 

“You’re welcome, Gregory. See you shortly. Go rest.” 

“Right, I’ll have a shower first I think. Text when you get here and I will let you in.” Greg hung up the phone and headed for his room. He grabbed a few things, entering the bathroom to start the shower. Stepping beneath the stream of hot water did wonders for him, helping clear his mind and reset his body. He would have stayed in longer but he wanted to be done when Mike arrived. 

A few minutes in front of the mirror saw him ready for the arrival of food and the one person Greg was really looking forward to spending time with. 

**Received 6:30pm:**

I am here. 

**Sent 6:31pm:**

Come on up. :) 

Greg set his phone down and went to unlock his door, his heart fluttering like a teenager on a first date. He felt almost giddy, it had been sometime since he felt like this. It was nice. 

“Hey Mike, come on in.” Greg stepped back, opening the door to let him in. Michael was dressed casual in a grey jumper and jeans - he looked amazing. Having him here again reminded Greg of the last time Mike was at his apartment, when he came for his brother. _Was that only a week and a half ago?_ So much had happened since then.

“Gregory, good to see you. I hope you enjoy Chinese food.” Mike lifted the bags a bit to show what he brought. 

“Yea, that sounds perfect. We can sit in my kitchen or on the couch and maybe watch something on TV.” 

“Sofa and telly, sound agreeable to me.” 

Greg could just listen to him talk all night - Mike's wonderful accent and British wording. He realized he was staring and not talking when Mike gave him a questioning look. 

“Is everything okay? We could use the kitchen instead if you prefer?” 

“Oh, no sorry. Couch is good for me too. I was just listening to your accent.” Greg smiled moving towards the couch.

“You have heard me talk before,” Mike sounded embarrassed, as they began to arrange the food on the coffee table.

“Yea, sorry I just love listening to it. I hope that’s okay?” Greg gave a sheepish look towards Mike, to find him blushing. 

Mike was even more adorable when he blushed and Greg had to stop himself from reaching out to run his fingers down Mike’s cheek. They were seated fairly close on his couch and it wouldn’t have been a stretch to touch Mike. _But would he welcome that?_

“So I am sorry to hear about your breakup, with Connor, was it?” Mike arranged food on his plate as he talked. 

Greg took a moment to chew a bite he had taken, thinking back to the fact that Mike had known Connor’s name at the hall that first night, yet acted like he didn’t know that was who Greg broke up with. “Yea well that was for the best, though.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t deal with the drugs anymore or the gambling. No offence.” 

“None taken. I don’t gamble myself and don't really care for the games.” 

“So may I ask why you do it then?” Greg puzzled.

“Because I must. I really can’t talk about it. Sorry.” Mike replied, looking down at his plate.

“No, that’s okay.” Greg went back to eating. “Why don’t you get out if you hate it?”

“I can’t. Not yet anyway. I won’t do this forever. But I really can’t talk about that. I am working on a law degree though, so I hope to be able to change things in the future.” 

“Oh nice, I wondered what you were going for since we are in some of the same classes.” Greg noted. 

“Yes, what degree are you working on?” Mike nibbled at his food, not eating much really.

“Not sure yet. Thought about being a cop like my uncle, but I am not sure. Just don’t want to end up like my old man.” Greg didn’t really want to talk about his family. It wasn’t something he liked to share with anyone. The soft look of non-judgement that Mike was giving him made him think that he could talk about anything and Mike would understand though. 

“It’s ok not to know yet. There are many things out there for you to do. Do you work aside from classes?” Mike nicely steered away from Greg’s family comment.

“Yea, I work at a record shop down on the corner of Elm Street. You should come check it out some time. I work after classes most days and most weekends. It’s not much but it pays the bills.” Greg smiled, happy to have someone like Mike to talk to. 

Mike nodded in understanding. They ate quietly for a bit, Greg had switched on the tv, settling on a rerun of Friends which he figured was acceptable, (because who didn’t love Friends.) Every so often Mike would laugh and Greg decided that it was the best thing he had heard all week, maybe ever. Hearing Mike relaxed and happy made him happy too.

Setting down his empty plate, Greg settled on the couch a bit more, letting his legs relax until they were leaning against Mike’s. When Mike didn’t move away, Greg decided to be a bit more daring and flexed his hand before setting it between both of their legs, so he could just touch Mike’s thigh lightly. He caught Mike looking down at his hand but not moving his leg away at all. 

Greg felt like a teenager on his first date at the movies. He had never been this shy with a date before. He felt ridiculous. What was next? The cough and stretch around to lay his arm around Mike’s shoulders? He knew that seemed a bit juvenile but he couldn’t get a read on Mike as to whether he had dated before or would be interested in dating now. Or if he was even interested in Greg at all. 

After a few minutes passed by, Mike spoke up: “What? No cough and shoulder wrap around?” There was a smirk on his face that Greg hadn’t seen before. His eyes never left the tv. 

Greg laughed, feeling a bit called out. “I can if you want me to?” 

“I wouldn’t say no,” Mike replied shyly, causing Greg to stop for a moment. His eyes lifted, looking towards Greg through half closed lids. 

“Really? Not moving too fast for you?” 

“No, but I think you should know that I don’t date.”

“At this time? Or ever?” Greg asked in surprise, turning to face Mike.

“I used to, but not now. I can’t.” Mike looked down and away from Greg. “I understand if you would rather not—.” 

“What are you saying, Mike?” Greg reached a hand to gently turn Mike’s face towards him. “You are looking for something with no strings attached?” Greg felt it was better to lay everything out on the table so there would be no confusion later on. 

“That is what I am saying… I understand if you are not wanting—,” Mike tried to turn away again, embarrassed.

“Come here,” Greg leaned forward, easing his hands on either side of Mike’s face, turning him while cupping just under his jaw. Leaning forward slightly, he placed his lips softly on Mike's. 

  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A smutty chapter in the middle of the angst. <3   
> This chapter had the honor of being the first smut chapter my newest beta Harmony has beta-ed. So I hope you enjoy.

**Chapter 11**

Greg couldn’t believe his luck. He had in his arms the sweetest, most beautiful man. Who was currently moaning against Greg’s lips.

He deepened the kiss, the feel of Mike’s lips on his and Mike’s hands gripping his biceps was driving him crazy. He wanted to pull the man even closer, he couldn’t get enough. Mike tasted like Chinese food and it was wonderful. His lips were soft and inviting to Greg’s, as he moved closer, almost trying to consume the man.

The kiss continued to grow in intensity, as Greg slid across Mike’s lap to straddle him, Mike’s hands sliding down to grip his hips, pulling him closer still. It was then that Greg felt Mike’s attraction to him. It was long and hot, pressed against his inner thigh. The feeling caused Greg to groan into the kiss. He slid his tongue across the seam of Mike’s lips, asking for permission to enter and was given access immediately. Their tongues began to dance together as Greg licked and sucked at Mike’s with such passion, he almost surprised himself. He just couldn’t get enough of Mike.

Mike’s hands began to roam across Greg’s hips and thighs, rubbing gently but with intent. Greg wondered where they may end up and how lucky he might get tonight. This was one way to end a bad weekend of getting arrested and yelled at for hours. 

They had tried to get Greg to give up Mike, though they didn’t seem to know who he was yet, just that he seemed important to the operation. Greg had made it clear he had no idea who the man was that came out the door with him, just that they had both found the door at the same time. He hoped they believed him.

Greg realized too late that he had slowed the kissing while his mind was busy., Mike stopped and pulled back as well. 

“You seem preoccupied. Should we stop?” There was that damn cocked eyebrow from Mike that Greg loved. 

“No, sorry,” Greg smiled down at him, rocking forward just a bit causing some friction between them and bringing a groan out of Mike. “Why? Do you want to stop?” 

“God, no.” Mike lurch forward again, catching Greg’s lips in a crushing kiss that took his breath away. 

“God, you are an amazing kisser,” Greg said in between kisses. “Has anyone ever told you that?” 

“There haven't been many but no one has ever said so,” Mike replied, running his tongue against Greg’s lip ring. “I like the feel of this,” he whispered before deepening the kiss again.

Greg was barely keeping his head above water, fisting his hands in Mike’s hair, as he had been longing to do. He broke the kiss in order to kiss across his jaw and nibble at Mike’s ear. “I want you,” he whispered as he licked a stripe up the side of Mike’s neck, causing the man to moan close to his ear.

“Yes,” Mike replied, breathlessly, his hands moving to pull at Greg’s shirt, easing it over his head. Greg lifted his hands from Mike just long enough to get his shirt off then attacked the buttons on Mike’s shirt quickly. His fingers fumbled a few times as he tried to remove Mike’s shirt while kissing him at the same time. 

Once their shirts were removed, Greg ran his hands along Mike’s chest, feeling the hard planes and the light fluff of hair that covered his pecs. “God, you are beautiful.” 

Mike blushed a bit as he ran his hands over Greg’s body, pulling him down for another kiss. Soft and sweet, their lips sealing together as their hands moved south. 

“I am afraid it has been some time for me,” Mike whispered, as Greg’s hands found his belt and began to remove it. 

“I will go easy on you,” Greg grinned at him. “Would you be more comfortable in bed?” 

Mike paused for a minute, making Greg begin to think he was rushing this a bit and about to send Mike running. “Or we can stay here,” he added, leaning back from Mike. 

Mike smiled, reaching to hold Greg’s hands on his body. “No, please take me to bed, Gregory.” 

Greg moaned at the words coming from Mike’s delicious mouth. “This way, gorgeous.” Greg stood reaching out a hand to help Mike up from the couch, leading him the short distance to his bedroom, where they continued to undress each other. 

As each piece of clothing fell away, Greg was more in awe of the man standing before him and it began to dawn on him that he wasn’t going to be able to keep this to one night. He was going to want more and keep wanting more from Michael.

He moved to stand closer to Mike, wrapping his arms around his waist, planting a kiss on Mike’s shoulder. They were both down to their boxers now, standing wrapped together planting kisses on the skin they could reach. 

Each time Mike found one of Greg’s tattoos,he kissed it, caressing softly over each one with his fingers after, making Greg breathless.

“May I ask what this one is about?” Mycroft ran his fingers across the tattoo on Greg’s shoulder. It was a design of a star and crescent moon next to each other, he had gotten in honor of his grandfather, who had a matching tattoo from WW2. 

“I will tell you the story one day,” Greg whispered, running his lips across Mike’s neck, sucking a gentle love mark as he did.

“And this one?” Mycroft asked, his fingers curessing the tattoo on Greg’s hip. 

“One and only time I got blackout drunk,” Greg answered. He loved his tat there, but not how he got it. His so called buddies had got him drunk and convinced him to get a tattoo done by a fellow friend without knowing what it was until it was done. That is how he ended up with a Bi flag on his hip. He never got that drunk again, to ensure it never happened again. He was lucky - he could have ended up with something much worse. Like an “I heart mom” tattoo or “Your Name” written on his ass. 

“Enough about those, come lay down with me, please.” Greg whispered into Mike’s shoulder, placing a kiss when he nodded in agreement. Greg began walking him slowly backward until the bed met the back of Mike’s knees. The man eased back onto the bed, shifting towards the headboard, grasping at Greg’s hands to pull him down on top of him. 

"How are you so beautiful?” Greg asked, kissing up Mike’s chest from his navel to his jaw and over to his lips, lingering there for a while before the need for more stimulation overruled everything else. Lowering his body to meet Mike’s, he slowly rolled his pelvis against the other man’s, making him groan and lift his hips to meet Greg. 

“Can I remove these?” Greg tugged at the waistband of Mike’s boxers. 

“Yes, please yes,” Mike begged, helping remove the last article of clothing he wore. “Yours now? Please I want to see all of you, Gregory.” 

God, did Greg love to hear Mike call him Gregory. It just rolled off his tongue so beautifully like a prayer. Greg made short work of removing his boxers, bringing their now unclothed erections together, causing both of them to cry out in pleasure. 

Greg reached between them, wrapping his hand around both of them, hissing at the touch of Mike’s cock pressed tightly to his. 

“Gregory, yes please more— more of that.” Mike was panting and groaning against his shoulder, pressing kisses and bite marks as Greg worked his hand over them, his hands gripping Greg’s biceps tightly. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Greg groaned, as Mike began to suck a mark at the base of his neck. 

If he had a free hand, he would have used it to press Mike’s lips harder against his neck. The feel of him leaving a mark was sending waves of pleasure through his body.

“Do you want to come like this?” Greg asked between the pants and moans that left his mouth. 

Mike pulled back to look in his eyes, shyly. “I want you  _ in _ me.” His voice was strong, yet a bit timid. Greg almost came just from him asking. 

“Oh fuck, are you sure, Mike?” His breathing was coming in fast as he let go of them, searching Mike’s eyes. 

“I am sure,” Mike whispered. “Please Greg, if I only get this one time, I want to remember it always.” 

“Fuck, okay.” Greg tried not to think about what that meant. Instead he reached towards the nightstand to where he kept the lube and condoms.

Pulling the bottle free, he moved down to between Mike’s thighs, placing kisses along the inside of them. “If it hurts at all, please tell me. I will go slow, but please don’t let me hurt you.” Greg waited until Mike nodded his head, before uncapping the top and pouring some lube on his fingers. “Relax. I will take care of you,” he reassured. 

He continued to kiss Mike’s inner thigh as his fingers found Mike’s entrance, he spread large amounts of slick all around before pressing the tip of his finger in. “Breath for me, darling.” he asked softly. 

He could hear Mike release the breath he was holding, causing his body to relax and open for Greg’s finger tip to slide in gently. “So beautiful,” he murmured, taking the crown of Mike’s prick in his mouth at the same time as he pushed his finger deeper, causing the entrance to relax and open more for him. 

Seeing Mike panting and writhing under him was making Greg harder then he had ever been.  _ How will I survive just one night with this beautiful man? _ He added more slick and eased a second finger into Mike’s willing body, making the man groan out louder than before. By the time the third finger was in, Mike was begging for him. 

“Please Greg, Please I’m ready. I need you.” 

Greg let Mike’s prick slide out of his mouth where he had been slowly sucking it and moved up his body, kissing across his chest while he did. 

Grabbing one of his pillows, he slid it under Mike as he arched up, bringing his bottom to just the right height. “I will go slow, tell me if it hurts at all. Promise me? I am not a small man.” Greg slid the condom on quickly as Mike nodded frantically. 

“I will, just please take me. I need this, need you.” 

All the begging from those gorgeous lips was enough to end him right there. Greg swooped in for a deep kiss before lining up to Mike’s entrance and pushing slowly in. He kissed down all of Mike’s moans of pleasure, just stopping once when Mike winced a bit, then continuing on when Mike asked him to. 

As he reached the point where he was fully seated in Mike, they both groaned. He gave Mike a moment to adjust to being filled before moving his hips back then sliding forward again slowly, going deeper this time. He began a slow rhythm that was just enough for both of them, especially as it had been some time for Mike and he didn’t want to hurt him. 

Greg stared down into Mike’s eyes watching every emotion playing across his face and it was a beautiful thing to see. He didn’t look like someone who only wanted a once off, no strings attached arrangement. He ran his hand across Mike’s face and behind his neck bringing his head up so he could kiss his lips passionately. He tried to stop his mind from overthinking things, but it felt so good. He didn’t want this to end.

Moving his hand down Mike’s body to wrap around his prick, Greg whispered. “Won’t you come for me, Darling?” 

He ran his thumb over Mike’s crown, wiping the drip of pre-come over and around the tip, eliciting moans and whimpers from Mike. Kissing him soundly again, Greg whispered in his ear again. “Come for me please, I want to see you come.”

“Oh god, Gregory!” Mike cried out before erupting over Greg’s hand and on to his own stomach. 

Panting heavily, Mike reached a hand to the side of Greg’s face. “Let go for me, please. In me,” he demanded. 

Greg groaned, picking up his pace before crying out Mike’s name and releasing everything into Mike’s clenching body. Greg let out a satisfied sigh and dropped his body down over Mike’s. 

Mike’s arms wrapped around him holding him close, one hand running through his hair. Greg knew he must be crushing him, but he didn’t want to move just yet. 

“That was amazing. You are amazing.” Greg kissed the side of Mike’s neck before rolling off him. “We are a bit of a mess.” He grinned, softly. “Can I interest you in a shower?” 

Mike kissed his temple. “That would be great.” 

Greg moved off the bed, reaching a hand out for Mike’s, leading him to the bathroom and into the shower. They took their time, washing each other, softly and intimately. Kisses passed back and forth amongst soap and shampoo. Once done, they toweled-dried each other, returning to the bedroom and sliding back under the covers. 

Seeking each other out, they met in the middle of the bed curling their limbs around each other. Greg held Mike close, not wanting to miss a moment or let go of him. If this was all he would get, he would make it last, make it count.

He could feel Mike’s breathing even out as he fell asleep. Pressing one more kiss to his temple, Greg let sleep take him under too, dreaming about the man he held wrapped in his arms and hoping that there would be more than just one perfect evening between them.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hold on for this chapter, folks. It gets bumpy. <3

**Chapter 12**

Mycroft woke early in the morning, still wrapped up against Greg, the night before playing over in his mind. He had enjoyed every moment and wished that he was able to keep Greg forever. He wanted to run away from everything — just him and Greg — run to some place where he could be free. He loved his brother but there were days when he wanted to not worry about anyone else and just be himself. 

But this was not possible, his life was not his own yet and duty called. He watched the man sleeping next to him for a few moments, before slipping from the bed and gathering his clothes. 

Dressing quickly, he took a second to stare at Greg once more, before saying goodbye to what could have been before walking out of the room and out of Greg’s life. It would be safer for Greg this way. He didn’t need to ruin anyone else's life with his problems. It was bad enough that Sherlock was stuck with him. At least Gregory had a choice. No one in their right mind would take on all of his troubles and still want to be with him. He knew who he was and he had never known anyone that was willing to risk that much for him.

Once outside, Mycroft hailed a taxi, giving the address of his flat.  _ Who knows if Sherlock would be home or not. _ He really shouldn’t have spent all night with Gregory, but he hadn’t wanted to let go. Being with Gregory had been the best thing in his life and he would hold onto the memories forever. Years from now, he would look back and still remember the feel of Gregory’s hands on him, coaxing him through his orgasam —the look on his face when his own washed over him. The sweet words that Gregory had whispered to him as he slid deep inside of Mycroft’s body. For the next few days, every time he moved he would think of it and he was glad to have those memories. He only wished there could have been more. 

As his flat came into sight, he could see Anthea’s car parked out in front.  _ What could she be doing here this early? _ Checking his watch, it was only 7:50am.  _ They had no plans to meet today.  _

Mycroft paid the taxi and made his way into his flat, calling out as he opened the door. “Sherlock? Anthea? Anyone here?” 

“Mycroft, good of you to join us,” Mr Hudson spoke from the sitting room. “Won’t you pull up a chair?” 

Mr Hudson was dressed for business, looking put together as always, and he had two other men with him. Mycroft looked first to Sherlock, who was sitting on the couch next to Anthea, both looking slightly worried. 

“What’s going on?” he asked, moving towards a chair. 

“I just stopped by for a nice chat and found you were out,” Mr Hudson smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile, but an “I’m going to ruin you” smile. 

“I was studying with a friend and lost track of time.” he answered without hesitating.

“A friend? I am told you have no friends. I also heard that your brother here has been running his mouth and getting into trouble.” 

Mycroft couldn’t read the look on Mr Hudson’s face, but he knew it wasn’t good. “He hasn’t. There is nothing to worry about.” 

Mr Hudson smiled again. “Don’t lie to me, Mycroft. Unlike you, I have friends everywhere and I hear things. They tell me that Sherlock is doing drugs and talking to cops.” 

Mycroft looked towards Sherlock again, then back at Mr Hudson. This was bad. Mr Hudson had given them rules when he helped them escape England. Rules that Mycroft was trying to follow to the letter and Sherlock was fighting at every step. He decided to stay quiet and see what else Mr Hudson knew first. 

Mr Hudson stood, pacing around the room. “This is very bad for business, Mycroft. I heard the Hall got raided Friday night? What do you have to say about that? Anything? Are you just going to sit there and act dumb?” His face was red and the vein on his forehead seemed to be pulsing as he yelled. 

Mycroft thought back to just a few hours ago when Gregory had been cuddling him after their shared shower and how he ran his thumb across Mycroft’s forehead. Smoothing out his worry lines, Gregory had said, while he pressed a kiss or two as well. Mycroft had never felt as safe as he had in those hours with Greg. A safety he wished for now in this moment.. 

Mr Hudson was on him seconds later, shocking him out of his daydream. Before he could even throw his arms up in defence, the first hit caught him on the side of his head, knocking his glasses off, the second straight to the jaw. Stars floated across his eyes. Through the tears and pain, he heard Sherlock yelling and Anthea pleading. 

“I own you, Mycroft! Your life is mine!” Mr Hudson yelled over them.

The punches rained down as black started creeping at the edges of Mycroft’s sight. Before everything went dark, Gregory flashed in his mind again, smoothing his worry lines, reminding him that his face was too pretty for such lines. Beautiful, prefect Gregory. If he was here, Mycroft wouldn’t be blacking out right now. But he wasn’t and Mycroft was...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Greg knew Mike was gone even before he opened his eyes. For a moment, he pretended that Mike was still there lying next to him, soft and warm, pliant in his hands. He wanted so badly to wake up with Mike and convince him to stay, to be with him. Whatever was holding Mike back, they could figure out together. But it wasn’t meant to be. Greg closed his eyes and fell back asleep. The bed was empty without Mike to share it, but Greg wouldn't be facing the world until tomorrow. 

Four hours later, Greg rolled over and checked his phone for any messages that Mike may have sent, but found nothing. He had been clear that it was just a one time thing. Maybe he was just lonely and needed to get off, and Greg was just a convenient option. 

Greg groaned at the thought. No, no he wasn’t going to think about this. He was going to get up and get on with his day. He had work and studying to get done yet. The world didn’t stop turning because the potential love of his life got away. 

_ No, one day at a time.  _ He would find a way to see if Mike cared for him as much as it seemed like he did. _ First coffee, then maybe food? _ He still had nothing in his fridge. He definitely needed a smoke in there somewhere too. Greg rolled up and out of bed, digging through his closet for something clean and went to his bathroom for a quick pee and shower.

Half an hour later, he stepped out of his flat and made his way to his favorite coffee shop on the corner. An hour of “people watching and coffee” and he would be ready for work. 

The barista was sweet, giving him flirty eyes and small talk. Greg flashed a bit of charm while ordering and left her a nice tip in the jar. Finding a seat near the window, he waited for his name to be called, passing the time staring out the window at the passers by: couples holding hands on their way to brunch somewhere; parents with unruly children headed to the park nearby; teens joking and teasing each other into causing trouble. 

Then there was  _ him: _ Dark dress pants; polished shoes; cream colored sweater; auburn hair slicked back, not a curl out of place.Greg knew there were curls under all that grease. As he turned to take in the familiar face more fully, Greg could see a lot of bruises covering Mike’s beautiful cheekbones. Bruises that were not there yesterday, when he had come apart in Greg’s arms. Greg was up and out the door before he realized he was moving, the barista calling after him. 

“Mike! Mike! Wait!” Greg ran, catching up to the man, grabbing at his sleeve. 

Mike flinched, drawing back before turning. “Gregory,”

“Mike, what happened? Who hit you?” Greg reached a hand to Mike’s face, only to have him step back, wincing away, trying to cover the bruises with his hand. 

“Nothing, it's nothing.” 

“That’s not nothing, Mike. Tell me, who did this?” Greg asked again, softer this time. 

“No, just leave it alone. Please, I have to go. Just please, leave it alone.” Mike begged, turning and hurrying away, leaving a stunned Greg is his wake.

Greg stood still on the sidewalk watching Mike practically run to get away from him, his hand still hovering in mid air where it had been reaching for him. His heart was breaking, his Michael was beaten to hell sometime after their time together. _ Was there someone else? Was Mike with someone else? A jealous boyfriend? Father? No, he had said there was no one but him and Scott. Scott! Maybe he could help with the missing pieces of the puzzle.  _ __

Greg wondered how to go about finding the boy. The first time had been quite by accident. Most likely he wasn’t at the same drug house — or hopefully not at any drug house for that matter. Greg had no idea where Mike lived, so he couldn’t go there.

Maybe they lived nearby as Mike was walking past this coffee shop.  _ Oh shit my coffee!  _

Greg ducked back in the shop to find his coffee was waiting at the counter for him. He thanked the girl absently and took the coffee to go. Checking his watch,he had time for a quick smoke before work. 

Outside, he lit up before walking to work, dragging the sweet nicotine deep in his lungs and breathing it out as he tried to think of a way to find Scott. He had no idea where the kid went to school or where he might hang out or who his friends were.

Greg took another drag off his cigarette, walking down the street towards work. He thought about asking Mel how she thought he might track down the kid. Or if she had ever heard of Michael Hunt. 

Rounding the corner, he finished his cigarette, crushing it out before throwing it in the trash, along with his empty coffee cup. Letting the last of the smoke leave his lungs, Greg opened the door and entered the back of Epic Sounds. 

"Mel, I'm here!" he called out, heading towards the front of the store. 

"Bout time!" She called back. "See if you can help the kid in the classical section. " 

Greg groaned, he knew nothing about classical music at all. But nevertheless, he headed there ready to bullshit his way through the best he could. The kid's head was downturned going through one of the many boxes that lined the underneath of the tables holding the newer records. 

"Hey, can I help you?" Greg asked. 

"Like you could, you know nothing of classical music," came a familiar voice. _ Scott!  _

"Hey, I know you. You're Mike's little brother." Greg couldn't believe his luck. "Scott? Right?”

“So?” he answered with disdain.

“Can I ask you something?" 

"If I said no would it stop you?" Scott asked standing up, giving Greg a bored look. 

"Probably not. What happened to Mike?"

Scott's face pulled a funny look of fear and a wince. "I don't know what you are talking about. I have to go." 

"Oh no! You don't get to walk away too!" Greg reached out, grabbing the kid's arm. 

"Let go of me." Scott growled. 

"Not until you tell me how he got the bruises. Please," He added, just short of begging. 

Scott stared at him for a moment. "You should really talk to him about this." 

"I tried when I saw him this morning, but he wouldn't say. Please I need to know." 

"Why?" 

"Why what?" Greg questioned. 

"Why do you need to know? You barely know him." Scott huffed. 

"Because I do and I'm worried about him." Greg pleaded. 

"What did he say this morning?" 

"To leave him and it alone, but I can't." 

"You should listen to him, but then again, he is always trying to take care of everyone but himself." Scott seemed thoughtful. 

“So can you tell me what happened?” Greg was crossing fingers and toes hoping that Scott would help him. 

“Fine,” Scott huffed. “The man he works for was not pleased that the Hall was raided the other night.” Scott seemed to be looking around as he spoke. “Seems to think that my brother or I had something to do with that. And when he wasn’t home when they came calling, well it didn’t help matters.” 

“I don’t understand, is it your father?” Greg asked, slightly confused 

Scott scowled in disgust. “Our parents are dead. And you say you know him.” 

"I don't know him as well as I would like to, but he isn't making that easy either." 

"Of course, he's not. Mycroft has always kept people at a distance. Never lets anyone get close to him." 

"Wait who? Whose Mycroft?" Greg was confused and Scott looked shocked.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are reaching the half way point-ish of the story. This is a bit of a shorter chapter. Enjoy.

**Chapter 13**

"Oh my god, you slept together and he still didn't tell you?" Scott stared at Greg. 

Making Greg think maybe Michael really didn’t trust Greg or didn’t care about him enough to tell him anything.  _ Like his real name _ .  "What do you mean? What am I missing? Are you saying Michael's name is really Mycroft?!" 

"Of course I am. Do catch up. But you can’t tell anyone, for certain reasons that you should ask him about. I shouldn’t even be telling you." Scott added.

"I would love to ask him, if I knew how to find him," Greg answered, feeling completely defeated at this point. 

“I might be inclined to help you with that.” Scott answered, thoughtfully. “Give me your phone.” 

“Why?” Greg asked.

“So I can program my number in,” Scott huffed back. “Why else.” 

"Oh sorry. Here,” Greg offered, handing over his phone. Looking around the store while he waited for Scott to enter his number, he noticed an older man in a suit watching them from the window. “Any idea why that man in the front window is watching us so intently?” Greg kept his eyes down and away from the window, so it didn’t look like he was watching the man in the suit.

Scott looked up sharply. “Hmm, he is either watching me or you, it’s unclear which at this moment. Best watch yourself.” 

“Why is he watching either of us?” 

“You do remember that my brother runs an illegal gambling hall for a powerful man that likes to keep people under his thumb,” Scott said, very matter of fact. 

“I knew the hall wasn’t legal, but not about any man backing Mike.” Greg rubbed his hands over his face. Things just kept getting deeper and darker. More and more secrets. Hadn’t he just broken up with Connor for lying?

“I can see you are struggling with all of this. Before anything else happens, maybe you should think about what you could be getting into. Mycroft doesn’t need someone else bailing on him. I cause him enough trouble myself.” 

Greg looked up to see Scott watching him closely.  _ Was it true? Maybe I should take some time and figure this all out… _

“Why don’t you contact me when you have made a choice. No, contact me if you have decided to take a  _ leap _ , otherwise I will assume you have decided Mycroft is not worth the trouble and have moved on.” With that Scott gave him his phone back and promptly left the building. 

Greg watched him go, he had so much to think about now. He needed to sort everything out, Scott was right. He had to decide if Mike was worth turning his life upside down for, or if he should just walk away now.

Pulling out his phone, he sent a few texts to Mike aka Mycroft. 

**Sent 10:20:**

Hey, just wanted to check on you. 

I know you said to leave you alone but I'm worried. 

**Sent 10:22:**

You don’t have to respond but if you could just let me know that you are okay…

**Sent 10:25:**

Tried to call you. Sorry it was accidental.

**Sent 10:30** : 

Ok, this is me, leaving you alone now. 

**Sent 11:02:**

Please just say you are okay.

  
**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Mycroft wiped the tears that slowly slid down his cheeks as he hid around the corner from where he had run into Gregory. Life was incredibly unfair. He wanted to turn around and run back, grab him and never let go, but it wasn’t possible. 

Mr Hudson was closing the noose around his neck and by the end, there would be nothing left of him. It was better not to take anyone down with him. He needed to find a way to get Sherlock free of the mess before it took him too. 

_ One thing at a time _ , he thought, wiping his eyes before replacing his glasses. He was going to have to quit interning at the law firm. Mr Hudson had found out about the internship, even though Mycroft had been careful setting everything up. He had been so close to getting his degree too. But that was over now. Mrs Hudson had even helped him hide the truth from her husband. Sometimes, Mycroft thought that she wanted out as much as he did, why else would she help him and Sherlock. 

Mycroft straightened his appearance and continued on his way; he had things to take care of. First, a meeting with Anthea, then meeting with Mr Hudson. They had to scout a new location and see what was left of the last one. Probably making some changes to ensure the same thing didn’t happen again. He really didn’t know if he could handle another beating at the hands of Mr Hudson.

He gingerly touched his cheek where the worst of the bruising was, with a cut just above his eye. He had woken up to Sherlock placing a cold cloth on his face, after Mr Hudson and his goons had left, taking Anthea with them. 

Mycroft hoped that Anthea was okay and nothing had happened to her. As it was, he had to hurry to meet her. He should have taken a taxi, but he figured there would be questions about his appearance and he would rather avoid that. 

Of course, it would have saved him from running into Gregory if he had taken the taxi. He would have to remember to avoid this area, if he was going to keep his distance. This was too near to Gregory’s apartment and his work. The likelihood of bumping into him again was too great. On the other hand it had been so lovely to see him. How he had wanted to feel Gregory’s hand on his face, soothing away the pain that lingered there. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Greg finished his work day, chatting with Mel about some of his problems. He was starting to feel a bit better about his choice to find Mike.  _ Mycroft? _ He really wanted to talk to him and ask if that was really his name, and find out what was going on.. No wonder he had been so jumpy that morning, when he had picked up Scott at the apartment. He remembered now that Scott had almost called him Mycroft then. It must be his true name. Mycroft. It suited him better than Michael in a way, and Greg could still call him Mike either way. If he would even speak to Greg again.

Mel had made some good points about seeing if Mike could just use a friend. No one should go through something like this alone. Greg had been vague about the reasons for why these things were happening to Mike. He didn't want to cause any more trouble by telling someone and having them accidentally tell someone else. 

Greg walked out of work, waving to Mel and starting home, lighting a cigarette as he walked. 

"You know those will kill you one day."

Greg jumped at Anthea’s voice, coming from the corner of his building. Putting out his cigarette and trying to calm himself while turning to face her. 

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!" he cried in reply.

"Oh please, if I was trying to kill you, you would already be dead," she smirked. 

Greg didn't doubt that. "So what do you want then? If you are not trying to kill me?" 

"We need to speak, quickly and quietly." 

"Uhmm, my apartment is just around the corner. Does that work?" He pointed to the building down the street. 

"Yes, that will do." She gestured for him to lead the way. 

"So, any reason it has to be done quickly and quietly? You’re not going to kill me in my apartment are you??" Greg really hoped that wasn't her plan. 

He wasn't sure where she stood with Mike and Scott and this unknown man behind Mike. After everything that happened today, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was on his way to cement shoes and a swim with the fishes. 

_ Isn't that what all gangsters do _ ? Anyone backing a gambling hall and beating people up was probably a gangster. Just Greg's luck he would fall for a man that was being threatened by the mob. 

_ Wait. Do I really think I’ve fallen for Mike? _ … He thought about it as they walked. He hadn't known Mike very long but there was something between them. Greg wanted to protect Mike and take care of him.  _ Hmmm. Sounds a bit like I might have. _

Anthea seemed to be watching him out of the corner of her eye. "I see you are trying to decide whether to get involved with all of this or not. What I have to say may help make up your mind." 

T hey reached his building, both checking the street before entering the door and going up the stairs. Anthea waited until he unlocked his door, following him in and making her way to the couch. 

"What I have to tell you, I am not supposed to tell anyone, but I have spent a lot of time with Michael and I am doing this for him.” 

“I know that’s not his name,” Greg said, crossing his arms across his chest, feeling skeptical.

“I see. Well he deserves better things in his life and I think you may be able to help him get there. I will not tell you things you should hear from him, but I will tell you that the man holding his strings right now, is planning something big and soon. So are you going to help me and Scott save Myke or do you plan to walk away? This is the time to make your choice. There is no going back once we start.” 

Greg stood just inside his door, listening to her. Right then and there he knew he would do whatever he could to help Mike, even if he never had a chance with him. “I am with you, because Mike or Mycroft, whichever it is, deserves to be free. No one should have to live a life they hate. So now what's the plan?” 

Anthea’s eyes glimmered at him from the couch. “Alright, good. Let’s get to work. First we have to do something about all of that,” she waved a hand at all of him. 

“What’s wrong with all of me?” 

“We need to hide who you are from the man behind Mycroft,” She said his name very pointedly.  _ Guess that addresses that question. _

“Are you going to just call him the man behind Mycroft all the time or does he have a name?” Greg asked.

Anthea thought about it for a moment, before she started texting away on her phone. Without looking up, she replied. “His name is Mr Hudson, Alex Hudson. Either way, try not to use that name anywhere. If it gets out, you’re a dead man walking.”

Greg nodded. He knew enough from his uncle to keep his mouth shut about certain things. “So answer me this, is this man related to Myke in some way? Because I thought they didn’t have any family left?” 

“No, he is no relation to Mycroft.” Anthea answered. 

“So what does this man hold over Mycroft that has him so scared?” Greg prompted. 

“That is part of the story that I can’t tell you.” Anthea looked up. “You will just have to trust me right now. I am sure he will tell you all about it eventually.”

“Ok, so now you want to get me and Mycroft in the same room? How are you going to do that? He doesn’t really want to see me right now. Scott was going to help me with that but I haven’t checked with him or heard from him yet.” Greg was curious about her plan. 

“I  _ am _ Sherlock’s plan.” 

“Who is Sherlock?” Greg questioned.

Anthea sighed. “Scott is Sherlock and Michael is Mycroft. Can we move forward?” 

“Oh. OH! Okay, all right, continue.” Greg moved to grab a soda from the fridge, offering one to Anthea before settling on the chair near her. “So what’s the plan then?” 

“You are really taking this very well, surprisingly.” 

“Do I have a choice?” Greg shrugged. “No one should have to live that way. No one deserves a beating like he did for things that are out of his control.” 

Anthea watched him before speaking again. “Meet me Friday night. I will text you the address beforehand, and I will send something over for you to wear.” 

Greg found himself agreeing and showing her to the door. After she was gone, he thought over the conversation, not really sure what was going to happen.  _ What is it about the three of them— Myke, Anthea and Scott? Sherlock? That makes him just follow along?  _


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Friday night was here again and Mycroft watched the door of the hall like a hawk. His fear level that the cops would find this place was high. He had tried to convince Mr Hudson to let him close for a few weeks until things cooled down, but Mr Hudson had been very clear that he was to continue. He had threatened to call the cops himself regarding Mycroft, if he did not comply. 

So, here he was, his suit pristine as always, with Anthea by his side. She was looking sharp in a black pencil skirt, white blouse and form fitted black jacket. She had spent most of the time glued to her phone, texting away. 

The turnout was smaller than normal— most likely due to the raid last week. He hoped that it wouldn’t cause Mr Hudson to be angry with him again. The state of his face had improved a bit in the last few days. Touching a hand to his cheek, it was still tender though. He tried to hide the move by adjusting his glasses.  _ Too slow _ . Anthea noticed and winced in sympathy at his movement. 

“It’s ok.” He looked away from her and out to the gaming floor to avoid her eyes. When he did, he noticed a man entering that he had not seen before. The man’s suit was beautiful and cut nicely for his form. His dark hair was slicked back, almost like Mycroft’s. Though the bottom lip was missing a ring through it, in the end it was the eyes that gave him away. Eyes that Mycroft could never forget, eyes that had seen inside his soul one passion-filled night last week. Eyes he didn’t expect to see here again. 

Mycroft had told him to stay away for his own safety.  _ Why hadn’t Gregory listened? He will be in danger if Mr Hudson finds out he was here.  _

His body must have stiffened enough that Anthea noticed next to him. 

"About time,” she said, moving towards the door. “Mycroft, that man needs to speak with you. Now because it’s not completely safe for him to be seen with you, we have devised a little plan,” she smirked.

Mycroft looked at her in disbelief. “You are in on this? How am I to talk to him with Hugh watching my every move? It’s not safe for him to be anywhere near me.” 

“I have that taken care of.” She nodded towards the door, where Sherlock walked in and began to argue with Hugh distracting him from watching the crowd. 

Mycroft started towards Greg then stopped. “No, I can’t. He is— no one would-- “

“Let him decide, Mycroft. He may surprise you.” She smiled, holding his arm for a moment, before pushing him along. “And don’t worry, now that Sherlock and I know what is going on, we will cover for you if Mr Hudson asks anything. Now go, talk to the man.” 

Mycroft didn’t know how he got lucky enough to deserve a friend like her but he would take it. Trying not to rush, he walked down the stairs to Greg’s side. His back was to Mcroft, as he stood beside one of the tables.

“Excuse me sir, but I need a word.” 

Gregory turned to look at him. “I am not sure why, as I have done nothing wrong,” he protested just the right amount before following Mycroft towards the back of the hall.

Mycroft's skin tingled just being near Gregory. He wanted to reach out and touch him, feel him against his body. 

Once they were out of sight from everyone, Mycroft turned, pulling Gregory against him, pressing their lips together with every ounce of longing he held for the man. Gregory returned his kiss with so much passion, he could feel it just through the connection of their lips. 

“Gregory,” Mycroft whispered against his lips. “What are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to see you again, but you didn't answer my texts or calls. Why?” Gregory asked and his hands roamed over Mycroft’s body. 

“My phone was-- uhm taken. Which is probably why he has been watching me more closely.” Mycroft pulled back, putting Greg at arm's length. “It’s really not safe for you to be around me. You could get hurt..” 

“Like  _ you _ did?” Gregory asked, his eyes flashing with anger while his hand went up to softly cup Mycroft’s jaw. “I want to help you. Please let me.” 

Mycroft searched Greg’s face, and what he found there was hard to believe. “Why do you care so much for me? You barely know me?”

“I  _ want _ to know you, if you will let me. I got all dressed up tonight, just so I could sneak in unnoticed, which seems backward, but Anthea was sure it would work.” 

Mycroft was inclined to agree. Anthea was almost never wrong. 

Greg continued. “I just wanted to check on you and tell you that I am here for you. Your brother was adamant that I not cause you any trouble, but he thought I could help you too.” 

Mycroft was surprised that both Anthea and Sherlock had reached out and talked to Greg. “When did you speak to both of them?” 

“Your brother was at my work the day I saw you in the street and Anthea showed up shortly after work that day. I think they may have been planning that, but I’m not sure.” 

Mycroft knew they must have planned that, for it to have been so close in time. The universe was rarely that lazy. 

“Do you think we could go somewhere and talk?” Greg asked quietly, reaching out to hold Mycroft’s hand. 

“Uhmm, I can’t -- I can’t leave right now, he will know… Maybe tonight after this is done. I could— I could meet you. Uhm.” Mycroft fumbled at how to ask to meet Greg at his apartment. He didn’t want to seem like he was looking for more of what they had done the last time. 

_ What was wrong with him? He couldn’t even say it in his head. Sex, there he said it. He didn’t want Greg to think that he wanted more sex if they met there. God, he wanted more though, more Greg, more of his touch.  _

“You want to come to my place later?” Greg asked him with a smile.

“If that works for you?” Mycroft tried to stay calm. Just because they were meeting there to talk, didn’t mean anything would happen. Best that it didn’t, in fact. It would only make it harder to walk away again. He shouldn’t have even kissed Gregory here and now but he couldn’t help it. 

“That works for me.” Greg kissed him again, moving his lips down Mycroft’s jaw and neck. “Promise me you will be there? Please?” 

“I will be there.” Mycroft groaned a bit as Greg continued to kiss his neck. “Now, I just really have to get back before Hugh notices that I have been gone too long.” 

“Until later then,” Greg said, leaning forward, pressing a kiss to his lips, before straightening his suit and walking back towards the crowd. He threw a wink over his shoulder at Mycroft. 

Mycroft watched him walk away, giving him a head start before he followed, meeting Anthea halfway back. 

Did you get a chance to talk? Or did you just make out the whole time?” she winked at him.

Mycroft winced. “Thank you, Anthea. And no we did not just snog the whole time. We are going to talk later tonight after the hall closes.” 

“Snog! You Brits are funny.” She laughed a bit, leaning closer to him. “Keep an eye on Hugh, I think he is suspicious. He seems to be watching you closer than usual,” She warned quietly, before speaking up again for Hugh to hear. “Did you sort that man out for the possible cheating?”

“Yes, it seemed that it was a misunderstanding.” Mycroft looked towards Hugh then back at Anthea, speaking quietly. “You don’t think anything— no never mind. Let us get this night over with.” 

Two hours later, Mycroft waved goodbye to Anthea as she dropped him down the street from Greg’s apartment. She had wished him luck for their talk and sent him on his way. He was feeling a bit nervous about the whole thing. He knew Greg deserved some answers after everything, but he was still unsure of how much to share with him. 

There were some secrets that were best left hidden. Walking down the street, he could see the light on in Gregory’s apartment, waiting for him. But a second look showed there were two shadows, one in the front window and one in the bathroom window on the side of the building. Mycroft slowed down his walking.  _ Should he still go up? Who was there with Gregory? Maybe Sherlock had stopped by, but why?  _

Mycroft paused and deliberated on the curb for a few moments before deciding he had to know. Plus he had promised Gregory that he would show up tonight to talk. Entering the building, he walked up the stairs to Gregory’s door, and giving two swift knocks, he waited. 

When the door opened it wasn’t Gregory who answered or Sherlock, but Connor in a dressing gown and Mycroft could tell there was nothing beneath. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything starts moving along now, we are over the halfway mark, peeps. Hold on to something! <3 Thank you for the lovely comments and kudos. <3

**Chapter 16**

“Pardon me for interrupting, but is Gregory here?” Mycroft was reminding himself that Gregory was not his and he had every right to sleep with who he wanted to. Even if it was a drug addicted ex-boyfriend.  _ Gregory is not mine. He’s not mine, not mine. _

“It’s a bit late, don't you think, for a social call?” Connor huffed. “Hey, don’t I know you?” Connor seemed to think for a bit. “You are from that hall, right? Sweet place, man. You can come in but Greg is a bit indisposed at the moment. Shower, you know how it is after, well you know.” Connor laughed, poking Mycroft’s arm like they were both in on the joke. 

“I see, well then no, I will be going. If you could just tell Gregory that I stopped by but didn't have time to stay. Thank you." Mycroft said quickly, as he turned to go. 

Conner shrugged. "Sure man." 

Mycroft nodded and left as quickly as he could without looking like he was running away.  _ What was I thinking? I should never have agreed to meet and talk with Gregory. Not now, not ever. I almost blew years of hiding for what? Some man I didn't even know. Stupid, just stupid.  _

Once he was back on the curb, he debated whether to call Anthea to pick him up or just find a cab. Ultimately, the decision was made for him when a black car rolled up and Hugh got out. 

"Mr Hudson would like a word," was all he said as he held the door open for Mycroft to slide into the car, before following him in. 

"I'm sure he does," Mycroft replied, trying not to think about the last time Mr Hudson wanted to chat with him. Everything was falling apart. Now, the hall had been raided, Mr Hudson was here and his life was once again turned upside down. Ever since he met Gregory. Meeting Gregory had only made Mycroft want for things he couldn’t have. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Greg finished his shower, using a towel to dry himself and wrap it around his waist before moving to the bedroom for fresh clothes. He had decided last minute to take a shower before Mike arrived just in case. 

Not that he planned on anything happening but he thought a little preparedness was a good idea. He could feel a grin on his face at the prospect of seeing Mycroft again. As Greg walked into his room, he was surprised to find Connor lying on his bed wearing nothing but Greg's bathrobe.

"Mind telling me what you are doing here and dressed like that?" Greg huffed, digging through his closet for clothes. 

“Don’t be like that, Gregory. I've missed you.” 

“What did you call me?” Greg stopped his search and turned to face Connor.  _ Gregory was reserved for Mycroft only. To hear it from someone else’s mouth was not the same. No one else is allowed to call me that. Ever. _

“What?” 

“Don’t act dumb, Connor. Why would you call me Gregory? You never call me that. It’s not even my name. My name is Greg.” 

“Oh, so  _ he _ can call you Gregory, but I am not allowed?” Connor pouted, sitting up. 

“He who, Connor?” Greg questioned, it felt like he was missing a piece of the puzzle.  _ Was Connor talking about Mycroft?  _

“Your new boy toy, that guy from the Hall.” Connor spat back at him. 

“Connor, what have you done? Why are you even here? We broke up weeks ago, I haven’t even heard from you all this time and now you show up unannounced, and wearing my robe? What the fuck gives?” Greg was angry now.

“I missed you,” Connor pouted. 

Greg had never seen Connor act this way the whole time he knew the guy; he was definitely not himself. “I am going to ask you one more time, Connor. What are you doing here? You certainly haven’t been missing me or you would have reached out before now. So what’s the deal?” 

Connor shot up off the bed and started pacing the room. “I don’t know why you are so upset, Greg. I am here because I miss you and I want you.” Connor stopped in front of him, quickly wrapping his arms around Greg and pressing their lips forcefully together. 

“Get off me, Connor!” Greg shoved him back, keeping his arms outstretched in front of him, to keep Connor away. 

“Come on, Greg. I know you want some of this!” Connor untied and dropped the robe off his shoulders, standing there completely nude and a bit erect already. 

“Fuck, Connor. Cover up would you. I told you we are over and I meant it. Now you need to start being truthful and telling me why you are here tonight, acting like this.” Greg gestured at Connor’s nakedness. 

“Well, if you are going to be that way.” Connor huffed, finding his clothes and getting dressed. 

“Connor, what is going on?” Greg wanted answers. “Why would you bring up the Gregory thing now?”

“You just missed your newest boy toy, he was here while you were in the shower,” Connor sneered, buttoning his pants and sliding his socks on. 

“And you met him at the door dressed in just my bathrobe, did you? What the hell!” Greg was furious. He reached out, grabbing Connor and shoved him against the bedroom door. “What the fuck gives you the right to do that? We aren’t even together and how did you even get in here?” 

Connor shoved back at Greg. “What the fuck is your deal, man! You leave me for that gay pansy! Why? Just cuz I didn’t want to hold your hand in public or fuck you in the middle of Times Square?!” 

“Fuck you, Connor! You know that’s not why!” Greg shouted. “Calling the kettle black much with that gay comment?! And I never pressured you into coming out! I didn’t give a shit if you didn’t want to hold my hand in public and I sure as shit never asked you to fuck me in Times Square!” 

“Fuck you Greg!” Connor stormed through the apartment towards the door, still bare chested with his shirt in hand. “Oh and FYI, I was paid a lot of money to be here tonight for when he arrived. So I hope you said your goodbyes to your fuck buddy because from what I understand you won’t be seeing him again.” 

Greg picked up the nearest thing to him, a large textbook and flung it across the room, catching the back of the door just as Connor slammed it closed. 

“FUCK!” Greg screamed, sinking to his knees next to the couch, letting the tears stream down his face. His chance to finally talk to Mycroft about everything was gone. 

_ What do I do now? What did Connor say to Mycroft? I need to see Mycroft and explain what happened. Then I need to find out who paid Connor to be here and why? It had to be the man behind Mycroft. _


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters today. Enjoy!

**Chapter 17**

Mycroft rode in the car silently. He could only imagine where they were headed and what was about to happen. Mr Hudson had made it clear that he owned Mycroft, that he was not to stray from the path that was laid out for him. 

Mycroft thought back to that night over two years ago when Mr Hudson had approached him at school, letting him know that their Uncle Rudy had passed in suspicious circumstances and the number one suspect was Mycroft himself. 

Mycroft had been devastated, he had no idea what was going on. Mr Hudson instructed him to get out of the country immediately, before he was found. 

Mycroft, of course, wouldn't leave Sherlock behind and had insisted that he come as well. Mr Hudson had a whole plan set up to get them to America already. Looking back, Mycroft should have realized that something was off with the whole matter, but he had been devastated over the news of his Uncle Rudy, who had taken care of them after his parents died.

Why they suspected Mycroft of any foul play, he couldn't figure out. His Uncle and he had always been close while he was growing up. Why they thought he would ever harm him, Mycroft didn’t know. He had tried to figure out the details surrounding his Uncle’s death but every time, Mr Hudson would step in and tell him that his searches were going to alert the authorities to him and that Sherlock would be the one to suffer. This had stopped Mycroft from searching outright. He started law school after that hoping to be able to go back to England and represent himself to clear his name. 

But here they were two years later and Mycroft was still under Mr Hudson's thumb, trying desperately to get free. Mrs Hudson had always been kind to them, always helping with Sherlock and bringing them food when she visited. 

There were days that Mycroft thought he should have just gone to the Met and pleaded his innocence. But it was too late for what ifs. He had made this deal and it was up to him to get free. He would not take Sherlock, Anthea or even Gregory down when he fell. 

He idly watched the buildings pass outside the car as they continued to drive out of the city. He thought back to Gregory and how he had expected tonight to go. He had thought this night would end very differently, or so he had hoped. Thoughts of being wrapped in Gregory’s arms again had gotten him through the last hours of his shift at the Hall. 

He had imagined those hands on his body, caressing, soothing, awakening parts of him that had slept for too long. Imagined being taken in Gregory’s mouth again, that tongue running across the underside of his prick, the warmth of that mouth sliding over his crown, sucking him deep. Mycroft had grown hard at just the thoughts of being touched that way. 

He had hardly waited for the Hall to close before getting ready to leave. Anthea had watched him with an amused look for the whole two hours he had waited. He was just thankful that she had offered to drive him instead of having to get a taxi. Though had he known what was waiting for him there, he wouldn’t have been in such a rush. 

In whatever lay ahead of him, thoughts of Gregory entering his body, pushing deeply into him, would hold him over until this was done and behind him. Whether it resulted in his death or Mr Hudson’s. One of them wasn’t getting out of this alive, that much Mycroft was sure about. 

He could see Mr Hudson’s home looming in the distance. Knowing he only had moments left, he turned his thoughts back to Gregory again: his smile; his laughter; his overall warmth and caring. Mycroft held tight to the feelings buzzing inside him and vowed to never let them go. Someday, he would have that again. If he lived to see it happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Greg knew there was no way to contact Mycroft, to have him come back so he could explain what had happened tonight. If Connor was to be believed, he wouldn’t have a chance to clear things up or talk to Mycroft ever again. 

He was sitting on the fire escape outside his bedroom window, smoking his third cigarette in twenty minutes. After Connor had left,he had fallen apart a bit, then had picked himself back up and tried to put together a plan. 

He had tried to reach Sherlock via text but heard nothing back. If he couldn’t find a way to reach Sherlock or Anthea then he would wait for one of them to contact him. If no one did by the next night the Hall was open, then Greg would get dressed up again and go there. He was guaranteed to find at least one of them there. It wasn’t much, but it was better than no plan at all. 

He stubbed out his last cigarette before crawling back through the window and passing out on his bed. This was not how he had hoped things would be. Mycroft was supposed to be here now, confiding in him, maybe even snuggled against him. Kisses being shared while things were sorted between them. 

Greg squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold in the tears. He had already cried enough for one day. As it was, his eyes were burning and red from the tears he shed for Mycroft. It had surprised him just how deep his feelings had already become. Greg drifted off to sleep, dreaming about Mycroft being in his arms. Soft, pliant, breathless, begging for more.  _ His _ Mike was beautiful when in the throes of passion, writhing and breathing out Greg’s name desperately.  _ Gregory _ . He loved it when Mycroft called him that.

In his mind, Greg could picture it perfectly. The ivory skin glistening with a sheen of sweat, curly auburn hair messy and wild from hands being run through it. It was the most beautiful sight and Greg wanted another chance to see that again. 

Once was not enough, it would never be enough. He could honestly say that he would never,  _ could _ never get enough of Mycroft in this lifetime. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Four horrible, excruciating days later, and Greg was preparing to visit the Hall. Four days of no communication from Mycroft, or Sherlock. He was worried. He stood in front of his mirror, looking at the man reflecting back. He wore his dark gray suit with the navy shirt that brought out his blue eyes— Mycroft had loved this suit when he wore it last time. Greg only hoped that he would be able to slip into the Hall unnoticed again this weekend. 

The last time he had gone, he had help from Anthea and Sherlock. This time, he would have to go alone and hope to find Mycroft or at the very least Anthea. He needed to know what was going on, to make sure Mycroft was at least all right. Going to work and classes these past days had been terrible and not seeing Mycroft there had only increased his worry. 

It took him three days to track down where the Hall would be opening next. He had finally got Diane to tell him; she had been with them the first time Greg had gone. The fastest way would have been to ask Connor himself, but something told him that Connor either wouldn’t tell him or would lie about the location. 

He had to get in there and find Mycroft or someone who might know where he was. Greg straightened his collar one last time, deeming himself ready and moved to the door. 

_ What would he do when he found Mycroft, though? What if Mycroft had changed his mind about talking to him? What if Mycroft wanted nothing to do with him now?  _

_ One thing at a time, Greg. One thing…  _ he coached himself.  _ First find Mycroft, then deal with everything else.  _

Greg walked out the door, down the stairs and across the street to his car. His beautiful lady in Blue. He slid behind the steering wheel, trying to keep his suit from wrinkling as he did. _ Maybe I should have taken a taxi?  _ No, if he needed to get away fast he would rather have his car instead of waiting around for a taxi to show up. Starting her up, he signaled before pulling out into traffic and headed towards the location Diane had given him. 

When he arrived, he parked just down the street from the building. His car would attract too much attention, so he couldn’t have her right out front. Getting out, he locked the doors before walking down to what he assumed must be the front door of the Hall. 

As he walked up, he noticed everything seemed very quiet, nothing like it had been the first time with Connor or even the last time he had been. Maybe they were trying to lay a bit low after everything that happened. Greg reached the door, tugging on the handle, and it creaked open loudly. As he stepped inside, he found an empty building. _ Damn it. How is that possible? _ He checked the address that Diane had given him twice, this was the place — or was supposed to be. 

_ Fuck! Now what am I going to do? I can’t just drive around and hope to find the place.  _

As he turned to leave the building, a man stepped out of the shadows.

“Greg Lestrade?” 

Greg stopped in his tracks.  _ This can’t be good. _ “Maybe, who's asking?” 

“I am. Detective Bart NYPD.” The man flashed a badge that looked pretty real to Greg. 

“What can I do for you, Officer?” Greg tried to calm the nervous feeling in his gut. 

“I would like to ask you a few questions downtown, if you don’t mind?” 

“And if I do?” Greg looked past the man to the door that lay behind him. 

“Then me and my buddies will ask you real nice like,” The guy smiled as four other cops stepped out. “What do you say?” 

Greg was beginning to feel like he had been set up. Set up big time. There was nowhere to run at this point. “Lead on.” He gestured towards the door, in defeat. 

The officer closest to him, stepped up and cuffed his hands behind his back. His rights were read to him before he was taken by the arm and the four cops walked him out of the building to a cop car parked outside. 

Ducking his head they helped him in the car and closed the door. Greg looked out the window back towards the building they had just left and saw Detective Bart talking to a big man by the side of the building. _ HUGH! _ He was being set up. There was no other reason that Hugh would be here talking to the cops.  _ Fucking damnit, this is not good.  _

During the car ride, Greg tried to decide if it could have been Mycroft that set him up or if it was the man behind him. It couldn’t have been Anthea or Sherlock — they had helped him, and had made it clear they were trying to help get Mycroft out. 

When they arrived at the police station twenty minutes later, the cop driving the car got out and opened the door for Greg, helping him to his feet and into the station. Inside they put him in a room by himself with a two way mirror on the wall. His hands were cuffed to the table in front of him, with just enough room for him to sit back in the chair. 

Now he was to wait. He knew how this went. They would leave him here to sweat for a bit then the Detective would be in to interrogate him. The only thing was, what or  _ who _ did they think he was? He, Greg Lestrade, wasn’t wanted for anything. He had caused a bit of trouble in his day, but nothing worth all of this. There had to be something else. _ Did it have to do with the raid on the Hall?  _

He wondered when he might get his one phone call. Who should he call? His Uncle? 

It would be nice to know what they wanted him for first. His uncle wasn’t going to be happy to find out he was in here again, especially after everything it took to get him out last time. 

Greg tried to relax in the chair, waiting for someone to show up and let him know what was going on. He didn’t end up having to wait long before the door opened and in walked Detective Bart. 

“All right, now I am sure you know the drill. We will be recording this as well.” The man sat across from him. “Please state your full name for the record.”

“Greg Robert Lestrade.” 

“And what were you doing at the abandoned building on Fourth Street?” 

“I was lost and looking for a friend.” 

“You are dressed awfully nice for being in that part of town that late at night.” 

Greg eyed the man carefully. He didn’t know who this guy thought he was, but he was glad he wasn’t dressed in his normal black from head to toe and that he had removed his lip ring for tonight. Cops never took kindly to a rebel.

“I was given bad directions it seems.” 

“So you were not in fact looking for an empty warehouse building to house your illegal gambling hall?” 

_ Ah there it is _ . Detective Bart thought he was running the gambling hall. He thought Greg was Mycroft. Greg relaxed a bit, he had nothing to hide except Mycroft himself. His gut told him that keeping Mycroft’s name out of this was important. 

“No, I don’t know what you are talking about,” he answered. 

“Of course you don’t. You do look a bit different from the last time you were in here, but that doesn’t change the fact that we caught you fleeing that same gambling hall when we raided it on Jackson Street.” The Detective sat back in his chair, watching Greg’s reaction. 

“Yea, but I never gamble and I am not in charge of that place.” 

“Oh you're not?” The man reached for a file he had carried in with him and started pulling out photos. Laying them on the table, Greg could see himself outside Jackson Street in one, another saw him speaking with Anthea. There were several photos of him coming and going from the different locations the Hall had been in the last few weeks. 

“What do you have to say about these?” 

“Wrong place, wrong time?” 

"Do you think this is a joke kid?” The Detective stood up, smacking his hands on the table. “You were seen in all these locations in the last few weeks, plus we have an eye witness naming you as the leader.”

“Who?” Greg challenged. “That guy you were talking to back on Fourth Street?” 

“I am not telling you that. You will answer my questions. Are you or are you not running a highly illegal gambling hall in this state?” 

“No I am not! What do I have to do to get you to understand. You have the wrong person!” 

“Then who is?” the Detective countered.

Greg shut his mouth, looking down at the table. “I don’t know.” 

“Oh sure and I am supposed to believe that? Please, your face says you are lying. So tell me!” 

“I want my phone call,” Greg looked the man dead in the eyes with as much calm as he could muster. 

“Yeah, yeah. Alright. You will get it.” He gathered up the photos and the file before leaving the room and closing the door. 

Greg sank back, wondering how long before they would let him use the phone. He hoped that his Uncle would be in a generous mood and that Mycroft was somewhere safe and as far away from this as possible. 

  
  
  



	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Mycroft woke in an unfamiliar room, with a bad headache. He rubbed his hand over the spot on the back of his head. Looking around the room, he tried to figure out where he might be. The room was simple, not very big. He sat on a twin bed, placed in the corner. There was a desk with a chair in front of a smallish window, a book shelf near that and two doors. Mycroft tried both doors. One was locked and the other led to a small bathroom and closet. 

Realizing he was being held against his will, Mycroft walked to the window, the view was definitely not New York. Palm trees lined the drive up to what he could tell was a fairly large home. Could he be at Mr Hudson’s house in Florida? 

He knew that is where the Hudson’s spent most of their time — Florida and London. But what was he doing in Florida? How did he get here?

He tried to piece together what happened last night, in New York. He remembered going to Gregory’s flat and dealing with a scantily clad Connor —something he would rather forget. Then he’d left, meeting Hugh downstairs, getting in the black car and traveling to where Mr. Hudson was staying in New York. 

He had been escorted to the sitting room, where Mr Hudson had been waiting, sipping on a glass of brandy. He had offered some to Mycroft in a way that Mycroft knew he wasn’t allowed to turn down. He hated brandy, but one didn’t reject a drink offered by Mr Hudson. 

Mr Hudson had been very quiet, as they sat drinking. He had hoped to see Mrs Hudon — at least she might have been an ally if things got bad — but as far as he could tell, she was not there. After many quiet minutes, Mr Hudson began to speak. Mycroft tried to listen but the room began to spin around him. He remembered setting down his glass, holding his head as it became foggy. 

“I take this very personally Mycroft, after everything I have done for you and this is how you repay me?” There had been a dangerous venom to his voice that had cut straight to Mycroft’s bones. He had known just as he was blacking out that there were more in play then he had known. He wasn’t getting out of this anytime soon. 

Mycroft sat back on the bed, rubbing his temples, trying to relieve some of this hangover. Whatever he had been drugged with had been potent. Potent enough to get him to Florida without even realizing it. And where was Sherlock in all of this? Was he here? Was he still in New York?

Mycroft could feel tears filling his eyes, threatening to rush down his cheeks. How had it all come to this? Two years ago, he was just a boy in college that lived with his uncle in the summer, his younger brother safe and happy. Now, he was a fugitive on the run for that same uncle’s death, running an illegal gambling hall for the mob and currently, had no idea where his brother was. His little brother who had lost his way.

Wiping away the tears that had broken free, Mycroft reminded himself that crying wouldn’t help him at all. He needed to figure out what he was going to do but more tears fell. Mycroft decided to surrender to the emotion for once in his life and give himself a moment to grieve for everything he’d lost: his parents who were taken too soon; his favorite Uncle; his little brother and the bond they used to share; his college years that were supposed to be more care-free; and Gregory. The loss of Gregory hurt differently than the rest. He was the first person — besides Sherlock — that Mycroft had started to trust. That was before he found himself callously thrown over for an ex. Mycroft tried to ignore the way his heart felt every time he thought of Gregory. He pressed a hand to his chest, willing the pain away.  _ Caring is not an advantage, all lives end, all hearts are broken.  _

Mycroft lifted his head as he heard a key in the door, and as it opened, a man Mycroft didn’t recognize entered. 

“Well, well. What have we got here?” The man had a grin that looked more evil than anything. “You must be my present?” The man closed the door tightly behind him as he entered, locking it again.

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Greg waited over an hour for someone to let him use the phone. When they did finally come for him, his bladder was at its breaking point as well. 

“Mind if I use the little boys room while we are at it?” Greg asked as they passed a bathroom to get to the phone. 

“Yea sure if you behave,” the cop chuckled. 

Greg just nodded, picking up the phone, dialling a number he thankfully had memorized. “Hey, Uncle Rick, yea it’s me and I’m in a spot of trouble, but I swear it’s not my fault this time.” 

“Sure, it’s not, kid. Where are you?” 

“Downtown. The 80th precinct.” 

“Alright I will be there in about fifteen. Hang tight.” 

“Will do, thanks.” Greg hung up the phone, turning back to the cop standing near him. “So bathroom now?” 

“Yea sure.” The cop followed him inside, standing by the door, watching him. 

“You looking for a show?” Greg asked as he stepped up to the urinal and began unbuttoning his slacks. His suit was beyond wrinkled now. He would have to pay to have it dry cleaned this time, he thought to himself, annoyed. He took a moment to glance at his watch, realising how late it was getting.  _ Oh fuck, his car! _ His beautiful lady had just been left on some side street in the middle of nowhere. He would be lucky if there was anything left of her when this was all done. Dammit he loved that car. 

When he had finished up, Greg washed his hands and turned towards the cop who was watching him. “Did you enjoy the show?” he asked.

The cop just looked at him, confused. 

“Lead on.” Greg continued, waving a hand towards the door. 

The man only grunted, opening the door for Greg to go first. 

“Oh what a gentleman you are.” 

The cop huffed. “Back to the room for you.” 

“Not much for foreplay are you? Boy, what’s the world coming too?” Greg started towards the room he had been spending a great deal of time in. Halfway there, he saw a mop of dark curly hair in the distance that he recognized. “Scott!” he called out, relieved that he had remembered to use the right name.

Sherlock turned from where he was talking to Detective Bart. “Greg? What are you doing here?” 

“I am being framed for running a  _ Gambling Hall  _ in the warehouse district.” Greg emphasized hoping Sherlock would understand what he meant. He saw the point when Sherlock understood what was happening. “I was looking for Mike and got bad directions.” 

“Hmmm it would seem so.” Sherlock said for the detective’s benefit as he walked over. Standing close, he spoke quietly to Greg. “Mike is gone. Say nothing to anyone and I will get you out.” 

“How?” Greg questioned.

“I have my ways. I will be in touch.” Sherlock went back over to Detective Bart. 

Greg let himself be led back to the interrogation room, to wait for either Uncle Rick or Sherlock to get him out.  _ Where is Mike?  _

Greg hoped with all of his heart that Mycroft was okay. Though his gut was saying otherwise. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Greg watched the clock on the wall tick by: ten minutes, twenty minutes, thirty minutes, forty minutes, then an hour.  _ Where in the hell are Uncle Rick or Sherlock or the fucking glass of water I asked for a year ago?! _

Greg was reaching the end of his patience. He had been sitting here fretting over what Sherlock meant. Mike was gone.  _ Gone where? What the hell was going on? _ He needed answers and he needed them now. He was tired of sitting here just waiting. It had been around five hours since they had picked him up and brought him in. 

It was now the middle of the night and he was tired. Finally the door opened and in walked Uncle Rick with Sherlock right behind him. Greg was half asleep. _ Finally! _

“Thought maybe you all forgot about me?” Greg started to stand up. 

“Sit down Greg, we aren’t going anywhere just yet.” Uncle Rick pulled up a chair and sat down, Sherlock stood towards the door, watching everything while texting on his phone. 

The kid looked somehow different. He was wearing a nice black suit with white button up shirt, all covered by a long black coat. He looked put together and older than seventeen, that was for sure. Much better than the dirty, matted hair and ragged clothes that he was wearing when Greg carried him out of the drug house a few weeks ago, at least. It was nice to see him doing better. 

“Now, Greg, we were able to get some of the charges dropped thanks to Scott here. Enough to get you out on bail, but they are still investigating you for now.” 

“Ok, so I get to leave now, but they are going to have more questions?” Greg asked. 

“Yes. Now moving forward you are going to want to lay low and not leave the state for any reason. Do you understand?” Greg though that was an odd question.  _ Why would he want to leave the state? Uncle Rick seems to think it was a possibility.  _

“Ok, I can do that.” Greg answered easily. There was no reason for him to leave. Was there?

“Promise me you won’t cross state lines?” Uncle Rick asked again. 

Greg looked between both of them. “Yea sure. But, why do you keep asking? Why would I want to leave the state? Am I going to stand trial?” 

“We will talk about that later. For now let’s get out of here.” Uncle Rick stood up and unlocked Greg’s handcuffs. 

Greg stood rubbing his wrists. “Thanks Uncle Rick, for getting me out.” He put his hand out to shake his Uncle’s. 

“You should be thanking Scott, it was mostly his doing.” 

Greg turned to Sherlock by the door. “Thanks, really. For whatever you did or whatever magic you used.” Greg reached out to shake Sherlock’s hand as well, only to have the boy give him a pointed look. 

“Let’s just get out of here for now.” Sherlock led the way out of the room and through the station. 

Outside, sitting in one of the parking spaces was Greg’s beautiful blue lady. “Oh! How did you get here, beautiful?” he said lovingly to the car.

“Your love for that car is unhealthy,” his Uncle said from behind him with a chuckle and walking to his own car further down the street. 

Sherlock huffed, walking to the passenger door, getting in. “Let’s go already!” 

Greg quickly got in and started her up. “How did she get here? I left her back by--” 

“Fourth Street. Yes I know. That is where I picked it up from.” 

“How did you know that she was there? And how did you start her?” Greg quickly checked her for any damage. 

Sherlock only smirked, texting away on his phone. “Just drive, we have work to do.”

“Are you going to start filling me in yet?” Greg asked as they drove away from the station. 

“I expect so.” Sherlock returned his phone to his pocket, turning to look at Greg as they drove down the street. 

“Like where are we going right now and what the hell is going on with Mycroft?” 

“There are many things about my brother and I that you don’t not know. Most, he probably didn’t want you to know, but at this point I need help getting him back.” 

“Okay, first where am I driving too?” 

“Our flat. 348 River Street.” Sherlock supplied. 

“Alright, Now what about you and Mycroft do I need to know?” Greg maneuvered the car towards River Street. 

“When Mycroft was ten and I was six, our parents died in a car accident while travelling for work. We were sent to live with our Uncle Rudy. He was good in the way of Uncle’s, he was my father’s brother and also his business partner. There were three partners in the business, my father, my uncle and a close family friend, Mr Hudson.”

“ _ The _ Mr Hudson? The one behind Mycroft? The mobster?” Greg couldn’t hold back the surprise. 

“Yes, the one and the same,” Sherlock continued. “Life with my uncle was a lot like life with our parents. He was gone as much as they had been, and we wanted for nothing. Mycroft and I both attended school in London until two years ago, when Mr Hudson showed up out of the blue to Myrcoft’s college dorm and told him that Uncle Rudy was dead. He then explained that Mycroft was going to be arrested for the murder of our Uncle.”

“What!!” Greg’s heart fell.  _ Poor Mycroft. _ “So what happened? Is that why you are here?” 

“Yes, Mycroft took Mr Hudson’s offer to get us out of the country. We left on a plane just an hour after Mr Hudson told Mycroft. I wanted to stay and find out what happened, but Mycroft wouldn’t leave me behind.”

“I can understand Mycroft’s point,” Greg agreed, as he pulled to a stop in front of 348 River Street. 

“No, not here. We will have to park around the back and down the street a bit.” 

“Are you being watched?” Greg questioned as he moved the car to where Sherlock had told him. 

“Yes. Always.” Sherlock waited until he parked before getting out and heading to the flat. “It’s dark enough still we should be able to get you in before anyone sees you.” 

Greg followed as Sherlock walked up to a back door, knocked and waited. An older woman finally opened the door, looking around before letting them in.

“Thank you Mrs Hudson.” Sherlock kissed her cheek as they entered. 

“Oh Sherlock, I am so glad you are back. I have readied the downstairs as you asked.” 

Greg watched the exchange, with questions filling his mind. _ Why if they were hiding from Mr Hudson, was Mrs Hudson helping? _


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving. Enjoy these chapters.

**Chapter 21**

Greg watched Sherlock and Mrs Hudson talking about many things regarding him and how he was being investigated for the gambling hall. 

“Uhm, Sherlock? Won’t she...” Greg pointed towards Mrs Hudson. “...tell him?” he finished in a whisper.

Sherlock looked at Greg then back at Mrs Hudson. “Oh no, you are quite safe here, Greg. She wants to be free of him as much as we do.” 

“Uhm okay then. So what’s next?” Greg asked, clearing his throat, giving Mrs Hudson a nervous smile. 

“Now we wait for Anthea to return with the details of Mycroft’s whereabouts. Come Greg, let us get you downstairs, just in case.” Sherlock headed for the stairs, not waiting for him. 

“In case of what?” Greg questioned, hurrying after him to catch up and follow him down the stairs.

“In case anyone comes looking for you,” Sherlock answered. 

“Do you plan to finish the story?” Greg was very curious to hear more. 

“If you wish,” he offered. 

“I do. Like how did getting out of England become all of  _ this _ ?” Greg looked around as they entered the downstairs. It was a cozy sort of basement. There was a bed in the corner, a couch against the wall with a tv in front of it and there was a small kitchenette near the stairs and a small dining table that could seat four. 

“At first everything was good —for about a month. Then Mr Hudson came to Mycroft and asked him to help him with a project. Mycroft is brilliant at numbers, we both are. Our parents were mathematicians. They both taught and wrote books on the subject. My father also worked for the government on the side, along with running the company with my Uncle and Mr Hudson.”

“Wow, busy man.” 

“Yes, we didn’t see much of them growing up. They were good parents, just not always there for us.” Sherlock made himself comfortable on the couch, facing Greg, who had taken a chair at the table. 

“That had to be hard?” 

“We didn’t know the difference, so not really. Mycroft and I had been close growing up, though I wouldn’t tell him that.” Sherlock grew quiet, looking down at his phone again.

“Why not? Are you not close now? Because from here it seems like you are very close.”

Sherlock lifted his gaze to Greg. “Does it?” 

“Well yea! I don’t have any siblings but if I did and they were going through something like this, I would be fighting just as hard as you are for Mycroft.” 

“You would?” Sherlock regarded him with interest. “Your childhood was not a pleasant one. I can see that.”

“No it wasn’t, but we aren't here to talk about me. Is there anything to eat or drink in this place? Could use a short nap as well and some different clothes. It’s been a long night.”

“Indeed. Anthea is bringing clothes for you and should be along shortly. You can kip on the bed for a while and I will wake you when she arrives.” 

Greg looked through the cupboards for a snack, finding some chips to hold him over. “What’s the deal with Anthea? How does she fit into all this?” 

“Anthea worked for Mr Hudson, helping Mycroft with running the hall.”

“How do you know we can trust her?”

“Well, I trust her more than I trust  _ you _ at this point,” Sherlock huffed.

“That’s another question: why are you trusting me with all of this?” Greg couldn’t help but ask. He knew he was a trustworthy guy, but neither Sherlock or Mycroft had known him very long to trust him with delicate information such as this. 

“Because I had you checked out and I need help getting Mycroft back. Plus you seem to care about him.” Sherlock shrugged as he continued to text on his phone. 

“Had me checked out? How? With what?”

“I have connections at the department. I also had a lengthy conversation with your uncle, Detective Richard.” 

Greg wasn’t sure how to react to any of this. “All right then. What’s next?” 

“You should rest for now.” Sherlock pointed towards the bed. “Anthea will be here at dawn.” 

“All right,” Greg agreed. He moved to the bed, kicking off his shoes and leaving his jacket on the back of one of the chairs. “Wake me when she gets here.” Greg said, before settled on the bed, closing his eyes, trying to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mycroft curled up on the bed, his eyes closed tight. He wanted to forget the last few hours, erase it all from his mind. He should have stayed in England and stood trial for his Uncle’s death. Surely, it would have been easier than all of this. He wondered if there was anything in the room sharp enough to help him. Just a few cuts and he could be free. No one would be able to touch him or hurt him again. But that would also mean leaving Sherlock alone in the world. Could he really do that? Sherlock was almost eighteen and really didn’t need or want Mycroft anymore. But what if Mr Hudson turned to Sherlock once Mycroft was gone? Could he leave his brother to face all of this alone? No, he had to get free and get them both far away from Mr Hudson. _ But how?  _ Mycroft opened his eyes, slowly looking around the room for anything he could use to escape and get far away from here and from  _ him _ . 

His eyes landed on the desk across the room by the window.  _ Hmmm maybe… _

  
  



	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Greg woke to the door of the room opening and shutting, he hadn’t slept much, his mind had been on Mycroft and whether he was okay or not. He rubbed his eyes open and sat up to see Anthea had arrived and was laying food out on the kitchen table. Slowly, he stood, noticing that Sherlock was no longer on the couch and he moved towards the table.

"Morning, Anthea. Thank you for this." He gestured towards the table. "Where did Sherlock run off too?" 

“He’s upstairs. I’ve put your clothes in the closet over there. When you’re finished eating, showering and getting dressed, we will begin figuring out a plan to find Mycroft.” 

Greg nodded, grabbing some food and eating quickly, while washing it down with some coffee. “Very good, thanks again.” He gave Anthea a smile before heading for the bathroom with some clothes from the closet.

Showered, changed and feeling ready, Greg stepped out of the bathroom eager to start helping Mycroft. Sherlock was back and sitting near Anthea at the table, both sitting with a cup of coffee in front of them. 

“Alright, what do we know?” Greg asked, getting his own cup of coffee, before pulling out a chair and joining them. 

“What we know is that Mycroft was picked up from outside your apartment last Saturday night after he was supposed to stop and talk to you. He was picked up by Hugh and Mr Hudson’s driver and taken to the house outside of town,” Anthea began.

“Wait how many houses do they have?” Greg wondered.

“This building of flats, a house outside of town, one in Florida and another building of flats in London,” Sherlock stated very matter of fact. 

“Ah ok. Thanks, continue Anthea.” Greg apologized, after seeing the look Anthea was throwing at him for interrupting her. 

“As I was saying, after Mycroft was taken to the house, he disappeared along with Mr Hudson. We believe they’ve taken him to the Florida House. Mycroft’s phone is off, we think Mr Hudson has also taken that from him. That’s all we know. Sherlock?”

“From what I have gathered from Mrs Hudson, I know the location of the house but not where in the house Mycroft is being held. So, we will have to get someone on the inside to discover that before we can make a move.” 

“How are we going to do that?” Greg asked, looking back and forth between them as they stared at him. “What? Are you saying I have to go in? But they know me and I can’t leave the state right now.”

“They know Greg Lestrade, sure. But--” Anthea started. 

“You wouldn’t be going in as Greg Lestrade of course. We will send you in as Jim Andrews,” Sherlock interrupted. “How fast can you grow a beard?” he questioned, moving forward in his chair, staring intently at Greg. 

“Uhm, I don’t know, have never tried. Maybe a few days to have something?” Greg replied, watching Sherlock stare at him. 

“Hmmm it will have to do,” Anthea said, picking up her phone. “It looks like we can get him in with the maintenance crew. I can get him a badge to wear. Though we may need to cut his hair as well?” 

Greg looked back and forth between them as they planned. He only hoped that he could pull this off. That they wouldn’t all get caught and end up swimming with the fish, though the water was warmer in Florida so maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as swimming with the fish up here. He stroked his chin thoughtfully, feeling there was already a bit of growth there to work with. 

“Would you be okay with that?” Anthea was looking at him, waiting for his answer. 

“Oh sorry, ok with what?” Greg asked sheepishly. 

“Ugh,” Sherlock groaned. “Pay attention! My brother’s life is at stake here! If you are too busy staring into space then be gone! I will find someone else!” Sherlock stood up, pushing away from the table before leaving the room. 

Anthea rubbed her temples, before looking back at Greg. “Greg, I need an honest answer from you. So please be honest.”

“Yea, okay,” Greg waited. 

“Why are you doing this? Why are you here? Is it just because Sherlock got you out on bail? Or are you here for money? Or for Mycroft?” 

Greg sat up, leaning on the table, looking her dead in the eyes. “I am here for Mycroft. Nothing else. No one deserves to live that way. I want to help, whether I end up in jail afterwards for jumping bail or not.” 

Anthea looked pleased at his statement. “Good, now go find Sherlock and tell him that. So we can get a move on.” 

Greg pushed back from the table, heading for the door. “Which apartment is theirs?” 

“3B,” Anthea replied as she began to clear the table and put the food away. 

Greg closed the door and headed for the stairs. Two flights later, he knocked on 3B and found the door unlocked. “Sherlock?” He pushed the door open a bit, to find the boy standing in front of the living room window, staring out. 

“Hey, Sherlock. I want to let you know that I do care about your brother and I want to help you get him back if you will let me.” Greg looked around the room as he walked closer to where Sherlock stood. 

It was a simple apartment, very similar to his own. There were red brick walls — which Greg had always liked about his own apartment — and two large windows at the front. He wondered where Mycroft’s room was and what it might look like. 

“Greg, I need to know I can trust you with this. This is my brother’s life and he is all I have left. We may not always get along but he is still my brother.” Sherlock stood rigid by the window, not facing Greg.

"You can trust me. I will help you get your brother out of this mess and back here.” Greg crossed part of the room. “I am not sure what you have planned for getting him away from that mobster, but I will help in anyway I can.” Greg tried not to think about what could happen to all of them if things went badly.

“Good to know!” Sherlock spun on his heels and started for the door. 

_ Alright, here we go _ , thought Greg.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Mycroft searched the desk for anything he could use. He found a pencil, a pen, a handful of paper clips, some loose paper and a notebook. Nothing that was going to help him. 

He was not getting free from this place anytime soon or maybe ever.

It was beginning to look as though he had only one way to freedom. It was an option that he was hoping to avoid for Sherlock’s sake. His brother didn’t deserve to lose anyone else. If he was gone, who would Sherlock have left? But at this point, who did Sherlock have anyway? 

He thought back to Mr Hudson’s visit earlier this morning. He had been clear, that Mycroft wasn’t leaving here anytime soon, that he had plans. He didn’t know what they were, but Mycroft would rather be dead than give him the satisfaction, or anyone else for that matter. He shivered at the thought. Yes, he would rather end his life than live a life like that. 

Sitting down with the notebook and the pen, he thought about the people he cared for most that he may never see again. Staring at the items in his lap, he began to write letters to each of them.

**Sherlock,**

**My dear brother, I know that things have been hard and we have had our share of problems.**

**But I want to let you know that I have enjoyed watching you grow into the genius you are today.**

**I always knew ever since you were young that you would go places with your bright intellect.**

**Try to stay out of trouble for at least five minutes and don’t lose contact with John.**

**I know you are struggling with him being far away right now, but that won’t always be the case and you will regret cutting him out of your life later on.**

**I am sorry to leave you with no one else aside from Mrs Hudson and Anthea.**

**Please take care of yourself and become someone our parents, Uncle Rudy and I would be proud of.**

**Although between you and me, I am already proud of you.**

**I love you.**

**Your Brother,**

**Mycroft.**

  
Mycroft wiped at the tears welling in his eyes as he folded the letter up and wrote Sherlock’s name on the front, hoping somehow it would get to him. Next for Anthea.

  
**My Friend Anthea,**

**Thank you for helping me. You dealt with all the tasks that I was giving, even though you knew nothing about them.**

**Without your guiding hand, learning the ropes would not have been as easy.**

**You never judged me and were a great asset and friend.**

**I hope you find a job more worthy of your many talents.**

**It has been an honour working with you these past two years.**

**Thank you,**

**Mycroft.**

**P.s. Please watch after Sherlock for me. He will need people in his corner. Thank you.**

Two down, two to go? Should he write something to Gregory? Or just Mrs Hudson? Regardless, Mrs Hudson first. 

  
**Dear Mrs Hudson,**

**Thank you for your consistent help with raising Sherlock.**

**There were days when I had hit the end of my rope with him and you were there to help me through.**

**I wanted to be sure to thank you for that.**

**I never got the chance to tell you, but you are a wonderful person and you deserve more than this life.**

**Please take care of Sherlock. He will need you if I am gone, more than he ever has.**

**I know you will be there for him, like you have been there for us the last two years.**

**Thank you for all of your kindness.**

**Heartfelt thanks,**

**Mycroft**

Mycroft folded and tucked Mrs Hudson’s letter in with Sherlock’s hoping that Mr Hudson would not read them. Maybe he shouldn’t leave one for her… though she deserved his thanks as much as anyone did. _Now… Gregory? Should I do it? Do I dare write to the man? No, I really shouldn’t. Just leave it at these three and be done…_

  
**Dearest Gregory,**

**I do not know where we stand or if I should even be writing this to you or if you will ever even see this letter, but here it is.**

**You were not meant to happen. You were not supposed to mean what you did to me.**

**When I first saw you in the classroom over a year ago, I was taken by your beautiful eyes and your carefree persona.**

**Topped off with your devil-may-care attitude and black doc marten and that delicious lip ring you were constantly playing with.**

**It was very hard to listen to the teacher speak when all I could do was watch your tongue play with that lip ring.**

**In the more recent events between us, I found that lip ring to be quite enjoyable in many different ways.**

**Suffice to say, I fell hard for you. You were sweet and caring like no one else in my life.**

**Your willingness to be there for me was just what I needed, but could not have, no matter how much I wanted it.**

**That one time together meant so much to me. You may never know just how much.**

**I knew then that my heart would hold a special place for you even though I could never have you.**

**As I lay there in your arms, I could see our future, I could see us growing old together, even. But it wasn’t meant to be.**

**Thank you for being what I needed, when I needed it. I hope that you find a love worthy of you and have a lifetime of happiness.**

**I wish you only the best.**

**Yours,**

**Myke**

Mycroft folded the last letter, placing it with the rest as tears flooded his eyes and ran down his cheeks. He mourned the love he could never have, the hands that would never hold him and the voice that he longed to hear speak his name, just one more time. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Greg straightened his shirt one more time. Looking in the mirror, he went over the game plan. 

First: Get on the property as part of the maintenance crew. 

Second: Locate Mycroft and ensure he is okay. 

Third: Get him out of the house. 

Four: Run like hell and don't get caught. 

The fourth was very important, Greg thought. The last three days had been very busy ones. They traveled to Florida in Anthea's car to avoid alerting authorities to Greg traveling out of state against orders. Eighteen hours in the car together had given them lots of time to make a plan. Greg was surprised at the rate Anthea drove, and that it hadn't taken them even less time to get here. They had weighed up traveling together or separately but in the end it was decided that it was safer to stay together. Having Anthea's car would be useful when they got to Florida anyway. The travel had been fairly uneventful and it gave them time to hash out the finer details. 

Greg knew his part in all of this. He just hoped that they would, well that _he_ would, be able to find Mycroft quickly and get them both out, without any incidents. His nerves were running wild the closer they got to Florida. If anything went wrong on his end, the whole plan would fall apart. If he couldn’t get in, or if he couldn’t find Mycroft. They wouldn’t get another chance. It was all or nothing at this point, and Greg was so worried that something bad would happen. He hoped the house wasn’t too large. Just the thought of running about in a huge house, looking suspicious moving from room to room, made him feel ill. 

Looking at the man in the mirror again, he gave himself one more pep-talk and walked out of the bathroom into the main part of their tiny motel room. Sherlock had wanted a place that they wouldn’t stand out in, that wouldn’t draw attention once they got Mycroft out. 

“So how do I look? He asked Sherlock and Anthea, who each sat on a bed. 

“Perfect.” Anthea stood, giving him a badge and card reader. “You will need these. The code is seven-seven-two-three. Don’t forget it. Repeat it back.” 

“Seven-seven-two-three. I got it.” Greg put the items in his pocket. “Any last words or advice?” 

“Don’t get caught and don’t fail,” Sherlock said, solemnly.

“Not if I can help it,” Greg promised. “Alright, here I go. Wish me luck.”

“Luck is a useless--” 

“Sherlock! Good luck Greg, you will do great,” Anthea said, glaring at Sherlock.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hold on for this chapter. It might be a little triggery, but its all going to work out. <3

**Chapter 24**

_ Scraping, something scraping at the door? The wall? What is that god awful noise? Cold everywhere. So cold, yet hot. Hot water? Why is it cold? So tired. Eyes hurt, tears running. Finding some peace, trying to find quiet. Just want to be free. Want to be free from the pain, need to be free of the pain, the sadness, the hurt. Free of everything.  _

_ Water splashing. Shaking… Someone is upset, calling him. Who could it be? Tears… Someone is crying… Don’t be sad, I will be free soon.  _

“Mycroft, please don’t do this to me. To Sherlock. Please, Mycroft, we need you.” 

“That is sweet. But no. Want some peace, some freedom,” Mycroft murmured to the empty room. “Just let me sleep.”

“You will be free Myke. I will set you free. Just not like this. Please, not like this.” 

“Gregory? Gregory, what are you doing here in my mind again. Want to touch you, hold you. Why can’t I see you? My eyes are so tired, weak. Can’t open them. So tired.” 

“Stay with me, Mycroft. Please, stay with me.” 

“Wish you were really here with me, Gregory. I miss you. Miss you so much.” 

_ Hands. There were hands touching him. God, no please, no more hands. Fight. Fight free. Push the hands away. No more hands.  _

“Let go of me!” 

“Mycroft, please stop fighting me. I am trying to help you. Please let me help you. Please.”

_ Gregory is crying. Can hear it. So tired…  _

“Gregory, please. Please be real and take me away from here. Please,” Mycroft begged. 

“I’m going to, love. Just let me take care of you. Hold on to me. I’ve got you.” Greg whispered to him. “I've got you.”

_ No longer quiet. So much noise. Yelling, anger. Sherlock! Here, Sherlock is here. Yelling at someone. Who? _

“Gregory, what is happening?” 

“Don’t worry, love we have you now. Nothing bad will happen to you again. I have got you.” 

Mycroft held tight, his arms wrapped around Greg’s neck, his eyes still unable to open. Still so tired.  _ But possibly free… _

Quiet again. 

Someone talking softly, near him. Warm blankets. A bed? Oh no!

Mycroft sat up in a panic, scooting up the bed towards the headboard as the room came into focus. It was not the same bedroom he had spent the last two weeks living in. This was different. Two beds, small telly, no sunlight, closed curtains.  _ Motel room? _

People in the room with him. Three of them…  _ Sherlock! Anthea! And Gregory _ . Sweet Gregory sitting as far away as possible. Sherlock sitting on the edge of the bed nearest to him. Watching him. They were all watching him. Waiting. Waiting for what?

“How--” His voice cracked.  _ Coughing, clearing his throat. Cup of water handed to him. Anthea. Nod, thank her. Take a drink.  _

Mycroft cleared his throat again. “How am I here? What happened?” 

“Well that is a long story, maybe you should rest first?” Sherlock answered. 

Gregory looked like he was trying to stay in his chair, fighting not to move. Watching Mycroft’s every twitch and flinch. 

“You should try to rest, Mycroft before we have to leave,” Anthea spoke up. 

_ Why isn’t Gregory talking? Why is he just sitting in the corner? _

“Sleep, uhm. Yea maybe I should try.” Mycroft slid down on the bed again, curling up in a tight ball. Sherlock and Anthea shared a look, before standing and moving towards the door. 

“Greg, take care of him. We will be back,” Sherlock spoke, with a nod, as he and Anthea left the room. 

Alone. They were alone. Gregory didn’t get any closer.  _ Why? _ Mycroft looked down at his wrists that hurt.  _ Bandaged? Injured? _ He moved a finger over the white gauze wrapped there. 

“Don’t pick at them. You need to leave them alone,” came Gregory’s soft voice from across the room. 

“What happened? I have holes in my memory,” Mycroft asked quietly. Greg looked like he was about to tear up. 

Standing from the chair, he walked over to the bed. “May I?” he asked, gesturing at the bed.

Mycroft nodded, shifting slightly. 

Gregory sat, leaving two feet between them. “You-- you were injured before we got there. We were almost too late.” A tear slid from his eye, making its way down his cheek. He looked down at his own hands, folded in his lap.

“You found me?” Mycroft asked, curious. 

“Yea, I did. I am so sorry Mycroft. If we had taken any longer or Sherlock hadn’t gotten me out in time or we hadn’t found you... it could... you could have…” He started to cry, his hands covering his face. Mycroft slowly slid a hand across the duvet, to touch the only part of Gregory he could reach —his upper thigh. 

“I am sorry, Gregory. It’s not your fault. It wouldn’t have been your fault, if you hadn’t made it in time. Please know that. Please,” Mycroft whispered. He hadn’t realized how his death might affect Gregory. He hadn’t realized Gregory felt about him, anything close to what he felt for Gregory. Mycroft’s heart was aching as tears left his eyes, his hand stayed just touching Gregory’s leg as he also wept. Mycroft wanted to move, to take the man in his arms, to comfort him, but his body refused to do so. “Gregory, would you please come here,” he asked between the tears. “I need to hold you.” 

Gregory laid down on the bed shifting towards Mycroft, and Mycroft moved his arms a bit to wrap them around Gregory as he held tight. Together, they held each other, crying until exhaustion and sleep over took them. 


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

Mycroft could feel Gregory’s breathing change as he shifted and held Mycroft closer. He thought the touch of another person would cause him more anguish after everything, but Gregory made him feel safe. He snuggled closer to the man, not wanting to wake up just yet. He was glad that Gregory was holding him, but not so tight that he would feel trapped. He knew if he were to roll away, Gregory would let go and not force him to stay. As so, Mycroft felt completely safe and had instead, snuggled closer. 

As they lay there together, neither truly wanting to wake, Mycroft heard a key in the lock and for a second he was back at the house. His whole body went rigid and he began to fight against Gregory. 

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe. It’s just Sherlock and Anthea. It’s okay,” Greg reassured him gently. 

Mycroft didn’t listen, moving from the bed to the bathroom at lightning speed. Once in the bathroom, he locked the door, sliding to the floor, and leaning against the tub. Sobs ripped through his body as he sat shaking, his hands gripping the bath mat in tight fists. 

From the other side of the door came a voice. "Mycroft? I know you are not okay and maybe you just need some space, but could you please let me know that you’re… okay is not the right word. Just let me know if you need me. Please. I will be right here." 

Mycroft could hear Gregory sit down and lean back against the door. He wanted so badly to be okay, but he wasn't. Silently, he slid to the door, leaning against it as well. It felt like Gregory was there even if Mycroft wasn't ready to let him in. He tried to hold back his sobs, covering his mouth with his shaking hands, but it didn't seem to help. 

"It's okay, Mycroft. Just let it out and know you are safe now." 

"You don't know that for sure," Mycroft said through the tears and the door. 

"Yes, I do. Sherlock has just gotten back from making sure that Mr Hudson will never hurt either of you again." 

"What? How?" Mycroft's voice faltered. _ How was that possible? How could Sherlock have done that? It’s such a risk — Mr Hudson's reach is long and deadly. _

“Sherlock, would be the best to tell you, love. Do you want to hear from there? Or do you want to come out here?” Greg asked softly. “It’s okay if you want to stay in there a while longer.” 

Mycroft was reluctant to leave the safety of the bathroom, even though he knew it was safe out there as well. He did feel a bit more calm but the edge was still there, hovering in the background, waiting for the moment to spring out again.

He could hear Sherlock and Anthea speaking to Gregory on the other side of the door. Greg never moved from where he sat though, keeping his body leaning against the door to reassure Mycroft. He liked how it felt —leaning on each other even though there was a door between them. Mycroft had lost track of time, while he sat there, his mind wandering to what would happen now. 

_ If we are really free from Mr Hudson, where would we live? How will I support us with no job and no way to get another one? Things seemed to be getting darker rather than brighter.  _

He woke without realizing he had fallen asleep, leaning against the door. He stood up, going to the basin to splash water on his face, before drying it on the towel and staring at the person in the mirror. That person looked tired and sad, but free. 

He opened the door to find Gregory still there, waiting. He looked down at him, sitting on the floor then around the room. Finding it empty, he looked questioningly at him. 

“Oh they went for food. Thought you might be hungry,” Greg said, slowly standing up. “Do you need anything? I can text them to bring it back when they come.” 

“No, I don’t. I just… I don’t know if--” Mycroft fumbled over his words. 

“Hey, whatever it is, just ask okay? If I can do it I will,” Greg reassured him. 

“Could you ask them to text before they arrive? I know it's silly, but I just--” Mycroft looked back towards the bathroom, then back to Gregory, the understanding crossing over his face. 

“Oh of course. I will let them know.” Greg pulled out his phone, sending a quick text to Sherlock. “While we wait for the food, what would you like to do?” Greg asked, standing near him, but making sure not to touch him. “Do you want to talk about any of it?” 

“No!” Mycroft shot out. “Sorry, no I don’t but thanks for asking,” he added quieter. “Could I, uhm could we just, could you just be near me? Not touching, just near. I seem to feel safer when you are there.”

“Yea, of course. Whatever you need, Mycroft. I mean it. Just ask me, okay.” Greg smiled at him, not moving any closer, and for that Mycroft was glad. 

“I will just. Uhm.” Mycroft walked over to the couch laying down there instead. He waited and tried not to tense up as Gregory followed him over, sitting on the floor, his back resting against the couch.

“Do you want to watch some TV, while we wait?” Greg asked. 

“You can if you like, I may just close my eyes.” 

“Okay, darling. You rest I will be right here.” Greg settled in, grabbing a pillow to sit on. He reached for the remote and turned on some show that Mycroft didn’t recognize. Watching him thoughtfully for a few minutes, Mycroft finally reached his hand out, laying it on Gregory’s shoulder.

Gregory looked down at the hand and then smiled at him. He didn’t move or touch Mycroft, he just let him hold it there in place. There they stayed, Gregory watching TV while Mycroft gazed at him. 

Some time passed and Greg finally received a text just before Sherlock and Anthea let themselves in the room. Mycroft still tensed at the noise, but didn’t move this time from the couch. Sherlock gave him a gentle nod, setting the food down on the coffee table in front of them. 

“Here, got your favorite, Mycroft.” He moved a few things to the coffee table, from where Anthea was setting out food. 

“Thank you, Sherlock.” Mycroft said quietly, but didn’t move towards the food. 

Gregory began opening packages and placing food within Mycroft’s reach. “Here, you want a fork or do you use chopsticks? What am I saying, of course you would know how to work chopsticks,” Greg joked a bit, which helped the uneasy feeling Mycroft was having. 

“Yes, I do know how to use them, but I think I will go with a fork for right now. Easier.” He picked up the fork, and Greg held the container out for him. Sitting up slightly, he began to pick at the Chinese food.

“This is good. Not as great as the place around the corner from my apartment, but not bad,” Gregory grinned at Mycroft over his shoulder. Mycroft wondered if they might have a chance at something when they got back to New York, but then again he had no plans for Sherlock and his future yet. Maybe he should wait until he has a plan for them, before mixing Gregory into it.

Across the room, Sherlock’s phone began pinging messages. Everyone’s head turned towards him, watching as he looked them over. The boy’s face paled as he read them all. 

“Sherlock? What is it? What’s happening?” Gregory looked worried and so did Anthea. Mycroft had his own fears, but he didn’t have the full story yet as to what happened during his time locked away. So he waited to see what Sherlock said and hoped he could handle whatever came their way. 

“Mycroft, you're not going to believe this, but it’s from Uncle.” Sherlock looked up, meeting his eyes, his face in shock. Mycroft could only stare. 

“Uncle?” Gregory looked back and forth between them. “Is that a good thing or bad thing?” 

“We only have one Uncle. Our Uncle Rudy, who we thought was dead. The whole reason we are in this mess was because of his death.” Sherlock was still looking at Mycroft, who hadn’t even blinked to his knowledge. 

“It can’t be. Sherlock, Are you sure?” Mycroft whispered.

“I am sure, Mycroft.” 

“How?” 

“I don’t know but he is here in Florida.” 

Sherlock read the texts as the world went dark around Mycroft’s eyes and he passed out. 


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

Greg stepped out on his front stoop, lighting a cigarette as he did. Drawing the smoke deep in his lungs, he glanced around. People passed him by, paying no mind to him at all. He ran his hand through his shorter hair, it was growing on him. At this point he may just leave it for a bit and see. 

It had been a week since they rescued Mycroft from Mr Hudson and here he was back in New York, with cops still trying to pin the Gambling Hall on him and his Uncle working overtime to help him. Lucky the cops didn’t notice that he had jumped state for about five days. Greg inhaled more smoke, feeling the papery tip of the cigarette against his lip. He blew the smoke out and wished he knew where Mycroft was right now. 

Mycroft’s Uncle Rudy had swept in like a whirlwind. The man was part of the British Government from what Greg surmised. They had sent Greg back to New York, but the other three had stayed there. Mycroft had been ushered off to a private hospital somewhere and no one would tell Greg anything. 

Down the street, he watched his uncle's car arrive. Time for his court date. He squashed his cigarette under his foot, before climbing into the car. 

"You know those things will kill you?" his uncle reminded him, before pulling away from the curb and heading for the court house. 

"Yeah, yeah, tell me something I didn't know," Greg answered sarcastically. 

His uncle shrugged and started going over the game plan for their case. Greg hoped that he would be able to prove he was framed for the whole thing by Mr Hudson, now that he was sitting in a prison in Florida. 

He wished that Sherlock was here or at least that he could have gathered some evidence towards the case, but he had nothing. He was starting to worry that he would end up in prison with Mr Hudson at this point. 

Twenty minutes later, they arrived, parked and made their way into the courthouse with a half hour to spare. Greg's nerves were on edge, he was craving another cigarette to help calm down but there was no time. He fiddled with his phone as he waited, and wondered if Mycroft had his phone back, although he probably had a new number by now. 

"Greg Lestrade?" A man stood in front of him. 

"Yes?" Greg answered, standing and straightening his suit jacket. 

"If you would follow me." The man turned and walked towards the courtroom. 

Greg looked to his uncle who also stood. "Well, here we go, I guess." 

They walked into the courtroom together, Greg’s palms were sweating and his suit was starting to feel tight, like it was going to choke him. _ Breathe, just breathe. _ Once inside the room, Greg walked to the front. He could see the Judge behind his desk, watching Greg as he took his seat. 

It was around this time that Greg realized he probably should have accepted the lawyer his uncle had suggested. At the time he thought Sherlock would be there with the evidence and he wouldn’t need one. Now, he was regretting the choice he made. _ Fuck. _

“We are here about the case of the City versus Greg Lestrade for running an illegal Gambling Hall. How do you plead?” 

Greg stood. “Not guilty, Your Honor.” 

“Do you have evidence to support this plea?” the judge asked, looking over his glasses at Greg. He was an old gentleman, who had a kind yet firm look about him. Greg hoped it meant the man would really listen to him. 

“I have a few things, Your Honor to support my case.” Greg raised a file for the bailiff to take. He waited as the Judge looked everything over. It was everything he could find regarding Mr Hudson and he hoped it was enough.

“Well, Mr Lestrade these are big accusations to make. Do you have anything else to support this claim?” 

“No your Honor, I do not.” Greg tried not to panic. Things were not looking good. At this point he may end up serving time for something he didn’t have anything to do with. 

Behind him the court doors opened and someone entered the room, walking towards the front. There was a tapping sound as the person walked, that Greg couldn’t place, but he was afraid to turn and look. 

“I believe I have evidence that you would like to see, Your Honor.” Came a voice. A voice that Greg would know anywhere.  _ Mycroft.  _

Mycroft stopped just beside his seat, looking down at him for a moment. Greg caught his eye and Mycroft gave him a small smile. 

“If I may approach the bench?” Mycroft asked. Once given the okay, he walked to the front to hand the Judge a file. They spoke quietly for a while. 

Greg took this time to look at Mycroft. It had been a week since he had seen him curled on the couch barely eating food and now here he was. He was dressed in a sharp three piece pin-stripe suit with a red tie and he carried an umbrella with him. That must have been what caused the tapping sound. Mycroft looked gorgeous and powerful, standing at the front talking with the Judge. Greg wanted so badly to talk to him and see how he was. But first, he hoped that Mycroft had everything he needed to keep Greg out of jail. 

After several minutes, the Judge nodded to Mycroft, who turned and walked back towards Greg, coming to standing next to him as they waited. The Judge read over everything that Mycroft had given him, before coming to a verdict. 

“All rise.” The bailiff asked. Greg stood. 

“In the case of the City versus Greg Lestrade, Mr Lestrade is found not guilty of all charges and hereby released and free to go. Thank you.”

Greg couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was so happy that it all had worked out. Turning towards Mycroft, he found the man was gone, already walking out the door. 

“Mycroft?!” Greg wanted to run after him, but the Judge needed him to sign papers first. When he was finished, Mycroft was already long gone. Greg’s heart sank — his only chance to see Mycroft again. __

_ Now what? Did he just move on with his life? What was next? Anything? Nothing? What? _


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

Greg entered the classroom monday morning hoping to find Mycroft in his usual seat, but it was empty and remained so all through class. The same with the rest of the classes that day.  _ Maybe Mycroft won't come back to school? _ Maybe this really was it.The courtroom would be the last time he ever saw the man. He had gone to Mycroft’s apartment building over the weekend but found it was foreclosed and empty. Everywhere he looked there was a dead end waiting for him. 

Walking down the hall after his last class, Greg checked the time. He had an hour before he had to be at work. He thought about grabbing a coffee on his way there, maybe that would help give him some energy for the night. As he passed the office on his way out, he happened to glance in to see the impeccably dressed young man that he had been searching for.

He started for the office door only to be blocked by none other than Connor. 

“Out of my way, Connor!” Greg growled. 

“Hey Greg, why do you have to be like that?” Connor huffed. “I just wanted to talk to you. See how your court date went last week. I was there you know?” 

“What?” Greg stopped trying to get around the man, looking him dead in the eyes. “What do you mean you were there?” 

“I went there for you. I sat towards the back, so I didn’t distract you from everything. I saw your boy toy come save you, but then he didn’t give you the time of day. You don’t need that.”

“Connor,” Greg could feel his anger rising. Was this the reason Mycroft hadn’t stayed to talk to him? Because Connor had been there? Did Mycroft think that Greg was back with Connor, even after everything. “I need you to move out of my way.”

“No! I need you to talk to me and listen to me,” Connor shot back. 

“Fine, I’m listening. What do you want?” Greg crossed his arms, waiting. 

“I want you,” Connor said, moving closer. 

“Not this again. I thought I was pretty clear, Connor. It’s not going to happen. There will never be an us again. When will you figure that out and leave me alone?” 

“Why? Why can’t we be together again? We were so good together,” Connor pouted. “If you are hoping for your boy toy, you are about to be let down again. I was just in the office when he came in and he is about to return to England.” 

It couldn’t be true. How did Connor always know things about Mycroft before he did? If it was true, he would never get the chance to talk to Mycroft. 

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck!  _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mycroft waited patiently as the secretary finished his request for his transcripts. This was the last thing he needed before they left for England. Well, not the last thing, he needed to talk to Gregory before he left, for good. He had thought about doing it at the courthouse when he had arrived, but seeing Connor there just reminded him of that night, when he had gone to the apartment only to be greeted by Connor in nothing but Greg's dressing gown. 

So Mycroft had taken the coward’s route and left quickly after hearing that Greg was safe and had been exonerated for the Gambling Hall. In truth, he had been avoiding him just a bit. Now, it was reaching the end of his time here and he realized he couldn't leave without talking to Gregory. Telling him the things he needed to say before it was too late.

The secretary finished with his papers and handed everything over, wishing him the best of luck. Mycroft thanked her, turning to leave, only to see Gregory standing just outside the office door talking to Connor. They seemed quite busy. It was clear that Connor and Gregory had some sort of connection. Mycroft considered whether to go out another door and talk to him at a different time, but this may be his last chance. 

So, he straightened his tie and his suit cuffs, picked up his umbrella and opened the door to stand behind them. Gregory stopped arguing with Connor when Mycroft appeared, staring at him instead. 

“Gregory, I wondered if we might have a word?” Mycroft asked, politely. 

“Yea, of course. Where did you have in mind?” Greg asked, stepping around Connor like he wasn’t there. 

“Greg!” Connor protested. 

“Not now Connor,” Greg snapped, as he followed Mycroft, without looking back.

Mycroft felt a bit of satisfaction from that, though he hoped his face didn’t show it. "If you are free, I thought we might enjoy a coffee at the cafe you like?" 

_ Oh yes, that’s right, Connor. I know his favourite cafe _ . Mycroft smiled at Gregory as Connor glared at him. 

"Yea that would be great. I'm free now? Just let me text Mel at work quickly," Greg added, pulling out his phone and sending a text to work. "Okay, all set. Shall we go?" 

Mycroft nodded, turning and walking beside Gregory as they left the campus. 

"I'm parked just around the corner, in parking lot A. Want me to drive?" Greg asked, he seemed nervous. 

"That won't be necessary, my car is just here." Mycroft pointed to a sleek black Audi parked at the curb, with a driver standing next to the back door waiting. He saw a look pass over Greg's face. He thought Mycroft was out of his league. Mycroft hadn't wanted to use the car but his uncle insisted. 

"Wow, that's yours?" Greg said in surprise. "That's uhm, that's a nice car. Comes with a driver?" 

"Yes, my uncle insisted. In light of everything that happened." Mycroft looked down at his umbrella, twirling the handle back and forth nervously. 

"Alright, well lead on then. Glad I'm not wearing my Docs today," Greg commented, following Mycroft into the car. 

Mycroft had noticed the change in Gregory's wardrobe; his hair was still short from Florida and his clothes were simpler, no leather jacket this time. Less rebellious and more modest it seemed. He wondered what had brought about the change. 

As the driver shut the door and returned to the front of the car, Mycroft tried to decide how to start this conversation. How to thank the man that helped rescue him and explain why he was leaving for England in two days. 

"So, I hear that you are leaving soon?" Gregory started, looking out the window. 

_ Well, now it’s started. _ Mycroft took a breath. "Yes, We leave in two days. I wanted--" 

Greg cut him off. "Two days?! Were you going to say anything if we hadn't run into each other on campus?" 

"Of course. Please do not think that I would just leave and not say anything after what you risked for me and how you helped me, Gregory. Do you think I'd be that cruel?" 

Greg bowed his head. "No, I don’t. I just. I don't know what I thought. Why are you going back so soon? I thought maybe we could... you know what, never mind what I thought. I'm happy you get to return to your home." 

"Gregory, I want to thank you for what you did in Florida. Sherlock told me the story after you left, since we never got a chance to talk. He said you got caught by Hugh while trying to find me and that he had to sneak in to help you get free. He told me I should ask you what happened with the rest. He had gone downstairs to confront Mr Hudson and you went to find me. There was also something about a man named Grant?" Mycroft watched as a look of pain and sadness crossed Gregory's face. 

"Yea, uhm… once I got...well once Sherlock got me out, I went down the hall where I knew you were being held and I uhm... I saw that asshole Grant leaving your room and I just saw red after I saw what he had done to you. I followed him downstairs and well, let’s just say he won’t ever hurt anyone again.” Gregory looked down at his hands clasped tightly in his lap. 

“Gregory, did you… you didn’t kill him, did you?” Mycroft whispered. 

“What? No! I wanted to. God I wanted to so badly, but I didn’t. I just roughed him up a bit and left him there for the cops to pick up.” Gregory seemed to be mulling over something else. Mycroft had heard about the condition of “Grant” from Sherlock and it was more than just a little roughed up. The man had apparently looked like a house had hit him. But he hadn’t known at the time it was Gregory that had done it. 

“I am sorry for how you found me. I don’t remember doing that.” Mycroft said quietly. 

“You didn’t do anything Mycroft.” Gregory’s eyes flew to his, filled with worry. “Please don’t think that. Grant told me what he had done to you. When I found out I raced back up stairs and found you. Had I been any longer you may have lost too much blood. Sherlock and I patched you up. We needed to be sure that Mr Hudson was dealt with, before we would worry about taking you to hospital. When I think back, we should have just taken you straight there.” He shifted in his seat. “I am glad it’s done now and that you are free to live your life how you want to. It’s all I’ve ever wanted for you. You know, maybe I should just get out here,” Gregory leaned forward knocking on the window to signal to the driver. “Yeah, hey you can let me out here.” 

“Gregory? We’re almost at the cafe.” Mycroft felt his heart breaking. This was not how this was meant to go.

“Yea I know, but you don’t need to be seen out there with someone like me and I really should get to work. I just… I wish you every happiness in England, Mycroft. I really do.” Greg leaned towards him, brushing a kiss on his cheek. “Goodbye Mycroft.”

“Gregory,” Mycroft touched his cheek where Greg’s kiss had fallen. 

“It’s okay, Mycroft. You are going to do great things. You don’t need a deadbeat like me hanging on to your coat tails. Go take the world by storm,” Gregory said, his voice cracking, tears starting to stream down his cheeks. He held Mycroft's hand in his for a moment, before opening the door and disappearing down the street. 

Mycroft wiped his own tears away, waving the driver to start moving again. “Goodbye Gregory. I will always love you,” he whispered as the car pulled away. In his hand he gripped Gregory’s lighter, which he had slid into his hand before getting out..  __

_ Something to remember him by... _


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

**5 Years later:**

Greg tackled Nelson the Noose just as he rounded the corner. Three months of chasing this guy and they finally had him. He wasn’t getting away this time. This guy loved hanging his victims and making it look like suicides. Greg and his team had been putting together a case for a while but could never pin him down with enough evidence. This time they had him. 

Greg was proud of his team, three and a half years he had been on the force. Just over a year and a half since he started leading his own team. They had a good record for cases solved and arrests made. Greg was proud of the long way he had come. Going out for the force had been a good decision on his part, with backing from his Uncle Rick, he was happy with the path he was on. 

“Nelson, you have the right to remain silent, anything you say can, and will, be used against you in a court of law,” Greg continued the speal as he cuffed the man and turned him over to his sergeant. Now, back to the office for paperwork and interrogations — his least favorite things. After that, it was home to the empty apartment for takeout and mindless tv. Another fun filled evening in the life of Greg Lestrade.

An hour later, sitting in his office, his second in command knocked at his door. 

“Yea? Come in.” He waved the man in. 

“Hey Boss, Nelson is asking for you. Says he has something you are going to want to hear.” 

“Oh yea? Going to try and barter for his sentence already?” 

“I’m thinking so, but can’t hurt to hear what he has to say could it?” His sergeant shrugged his shoulders. 

“Yea, you’re right. Lead me to the madman and let's see what he has to say.” Greg stood, rounding his desk and followed the other man down the hall. 

Two hours later, Greg left the room with new information on an unsolved case that had been plaguing him since the beginning of his career. After he joined the force and made Detective, he had a case that had remained unsolved, involving the death of two young girls. According to Nelson, these deaths were at the hands of a man named James Talbit and there had been more victims. Greg started pulling files and digging for anything he could find on this James Talbit. 

His search led him to New Scotland Yard in London, England where he spoke with a Sergeant Dovovan. She helped with some leads, but in the end Greg found himself on a plane headed to England. 

It had been five years almost to the day, since he walked away from Mycroft’s car, tears stinging his eyes and his heart broken. Now, just when he thought he was getting better, all it took was a mention of England and Greg was right back in that headspace again. He could feel Mycroft’s hand in his, the feel of his cheek under Greg’s lips. _ What were the chances that Mycroft was still in London? Or that he remembers me at all. For all I know, Mycroft could be happily married with a couple of kids by now. Maybe I should still look him up though, for old times sake _ , he thought. 

Well he had an eleven hour flight to decide what to do about that. He shifted to find a comfortable spot in his seat and closed his eyes. He dreamt of a tall, lean man with ginger hair and a suit that would make anyone drool, leaning on an umbrella with one eyebrow crocked in the air and a smirk on his kissable lips. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mycroft listened to the Prime Minister outline his plan for the future of England, it was a good plan for some, but it needed work yet. Mycroft was the youngest government official to be in this meeting. He was on a steady rise to becoming a man in charge of most of the country and this was something he was very proud of. 

Once they had returned to England, Mycroft had put everything into following in his uncle’s and father’s footsteps. He spent every waking moment at work or working towards that goal. Just to be present at this meeting was a big step in his career. Mycroft used every part of his genius mind to secure his place.

There were choices along the way that he regretted making but he had made them and he stood by them. One of his biggest regrets was letting Gregory walk away from his car that day, five years ago. But there was no changing that now, hopefully Gregory had found someone to make him happy by now. Someone that wasn’t Mycroft. 

_ Oh the PM is looking at me for an answer! I’m being called on. I can do this.  _

“Though I do agree with your ideas here, Prime Minister, I do believe that the lower class would suffer needlessly and we should go about this in a slightly different way.” Mycroft waited to see how his statement would be taken. 

The PM had a thoughtful look. “What would you propose to handle this situation?” 

Mycroft took a deep breath and began to outline his idea for the plan. 

Three hours later, he walked out of the meeting with the PM asking him to bring his plan in writing next week, and that his future was looking very bright indeed. Mycroft felt a sigh of relief, he did it. This was something he was good at. 

Back at his office, he had stopped to check for any messages that may have been left for him with his assistant, Jane. There were days that he really missed Anthea.

“Any messages, Jane?” he asked politely.

“Just a few, sir.” She handed him a few memos. “Also sir, there was a call from a Sergeant Donovon regarding your brother. I believe he is terrorising the station again,” she said with a sympathetic smile.

“Thank you, Jane. Do you have a number that I may reach her at?” he asked as he shifted through the rest of the memos. 

“Yes, here you are sir.” She handed him another memo. 

Mycroft continued to his office, closing the door behind him. He dialed the Sergeant’s number. “Hello, Sergeant Donovon? Mycroft Holmes, here. You called?” 

“Ah yes. I did. Your brother and his friend are trying to get access to my crime scene,” she sighed. Mycroft could hear her rubbing her temples through the phone. 

“Where are they now?” 

“We are at the station at the moment.”

“I will be there momentarily.” Mycroft hung up the phone and found himself rubbing at his own temples. 

Sherlock had taken up crime solving and was joined by a recently injured John Watson, who, after being invalided out of the army, had come to London to join Sherlock on his cases. They had become quite the team again. Mycroft was glad his brother had found something he was passionate about, but it resulted in a lot of phone calls to him. 

Sherlock and John were living on Baker Street in a building that Mrs Hudson owned. She lived below them in the same building. Mrs Hudson had come back to England after her husband had been given the death penalty. She was mothering Sherlock (and John) as much as she could. Mycroft often wondered if Sherlock and John’s relationship had developed beyond friendship but he hadn’t found the right time to ask. Maybe he would one day. But right now, he needed to get to the station and stop Sherlock from causing more trouble. 


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5 years later and the boys meet again for the first time.

**Chapter 29**

Greg landed in England during a heavy rain storm that seemed to be single handedly trying to wash the streets of London. He stood waiting for a cab just under an awning with a single bag in hand. He hadn’t planned to go to a hotel first but at this rate he was considering it. He would have packed an umbrella if he had known it was going to rain this much. He flipped his collar up as the wind started to pick up. 

An empty cab pulled up to the curb and Greg made a dash to get inside before he got too soaked. “New Scotland Yard, Please.” 

Greg decided it would be easier to go straight to the Yard first and then ask for a hotel recommendation from the coppers. A thirty minute cab ride later saw Greg in front of the New Scotland Yard building. He eyed it up and down before entering the front door. Sitting at a desk inside was a lady officer, typing. 

“Excuse me, I’m looking for Sergeant Donovon? Could you let her know I’m here. Detective Greg Lestrade from New York.” Greg waited as she picked up the phone. 

Behind him came a voice from the past. “Gregory?” 

Greg stopped still, unable to move a muscle. _It couldn’t be._ He flew over three thousand miles and hadn’t been on the ground for more than three hours and the third person he should run into was Mycroft Holmes, the love that he let go of all those years ago because the man deserved better. _Better than him._

Greg turned slowly taking in the sight behind him. Mycroft stood just inside the door, black umbrella in hand, dark navy suit, white shirt and navy tie with small white dots. His ginger hair slicked back, his piercing eyes staring at Greg as though he was seeing a ghost.

“Mycroft? Wow, small world.” Greg smiled, with everything he had. His heart felt as though it had been sleeping all these years and now had begun to beat again. 

“What-- I mean how are you here?” Mycroft moved towards him, reaching out a hand towards his face, without thinking. 

“I’m here on a case,” Greg supplied. 

“A case? Are you an officer now?” Mycroft questioned. He still looked like he wasn’t sure it was Greg standing in front of him. 

“Uhm yea, Detective Greg Lestrade of the 80th precinct, New York, New York at your service.” Greg mocked a salute. 

"That is wond--” Mycroft didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before Sherlock swanned between them with a shorter blonde man following behind. 

“Mycroft, what are you doing here?” Sherlock huffed. “Greg, good to see you. Donovon has filled me in on your case and I believe I have a lead.” 

“Good to see you too, Sherlock. That was fast!” Greg glanced past Sherlock to where Mycroft had lowered his hand and put an expressionless mask on his face. One that Greg could not read at all. 

The blankness was upsetting and Greg wished they could have a moment longer together to talk before they had been interrupted. For a moment there, he thought Mycroft might have missed him and looked like he was going to kiss him. But that moment was gone, if it was even there. Greg wondered if there was someone in Mycroft’s life now. 

“Sherlock, I must ask that you stop terrorizing the station and Sergeant Donovon.” Mycroft sounded all business. 

Sherlock huffed. “Did you really drive all the way down here just for that, Mycroft? You’re welcome to go back to your office, we have work to do. Come along, John. Greg, you will want to come too.” 

Out the door Sherlock went, with the blonde man following behind him. _That must be John_. At the same time, a woman stepped out of the lift, who looked like she might be in charge of things. 

She stopped in front of Greg, holding out her hand. “Sergeant Donovon, you must be Detective Lestrade?” 

“Yes, I am. Nice to meet you.” Greg shook her hand, then looked around her only to find Mycroft was gone. _Damn, that might have been my only chance to talk to him._ _Again._

“I’m sure you met Sherlock and John on their way out? We need to hurry if we are going to keep up,” she laughed, with a shake of her head. “Once he is on the case, it’s hard to slow him down. He’s worse now that he has backup. Have to call that brother of his every so often just to keep him in line. Well, here we go. My car is just out front.” 

Greg followed her out of the building. “So you have a lead then? On Talbit?” 

As they stepped up to her car, Greg watched a sleek black Audi pulling away from the curb. _Mycroft._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mycroft sat in the back of his car, his heart beating like a speeding train. He could barely catch his breath. _Gregory._ Gregory Lestrade was here, in his city. _How did this happen? When did he get here?_ He looked gorgeous, his hair was still shorter than when Mycroft had first met him. It was sort of spiking and wavy all at the same time. He wore a nice light gray suit with a white shirt and he had taken Mycroft’s breath away instantly.

Mycroft couldn’t believe he had almost reached out to touch Gregory’s face. He had wanted to pull the man into his arms and kiss him soundly right there in the middle of the station.

But that would have been a horrible idea, as he had built his reputation over the last couple of years becoming the Iceman, known to work hard and let no one in. Ever. _Save one man_. One beautiful man, who Mycroft had thought he would never see again. 

It was decision time. Did he drive away now and stay away from Gregory? Or did he try to see him again? _Maybe talk to him about things that had happened?_

Mycroft couldn't decide, the choices weighing heavy on his mind. Though since Gregory was helping Sherlock with a case, the chance they may run into each other again was higher. Maybe he should throw caution to the wind and let the fates decide. _Now, I’m sounding like Jane._ He really should see if Anthea was job hunting at all. She would know what he should do. 

Maybe he should contact her...

Mycroft ran a finger across his lip as he thought about Gregory. He had noticed the lip ring was gone, most likely because he was an officer now. Mycroft wondered what kissing him would feel like now that it was gone? He also wondered if anything else had changed? _Maybe I should invite Greg to dinner?_ If it just happened to be at his nice flat with just the two of them, that would be alright. Wouldn't it?

Mycroft pondered what to do about Greg and Anthea all the way back to his office. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Greg had followed, chased, scrambled after, yelled at and been told off by both Sherlock and John all day and he was done. He wanted eight straight hours of uninterrupted sleep in a warm bed somewhere. Which reminded him that he had yet to find a hotel to stay at while he was here. 

He looked around for Sergeant Donovon, but found she was gone, taking their latest catch back to the station and he was left out here without a ride or his duffel bag. _Now what? Where had Sherlock and John ducked off too? Did everyone just forget me at this crime scene?_

His best option was to get a ride with one of the black and whites back to the station to retrieve his duffel then find a place to stay. He was trying to decide which copper looked like they would give him a ride, when a black Audi pulled up on his left. 

_It couldn’t be._

The back window rolled down slowly. “Detective Lestrade? I would like to offer you a ride and a place to stay while you are in town if that is agreeable?”

Greg let out a sigh of relief. “That would be great. Thank you.” 

Greg walked to the car and slid into the back seat next to Mycroft. “My duffel is back at the station. If we could swing through there on the way to a hotel?” 

“I-- uhm… wondered if you would like to stay at my home actually? I have a guest room,” Mycroft added quickly. “I also took the liberty of picking up your bag on the way here. I hope that is okay? If you would rather stay at a hotel I can take you to a nice one.” Mycroft looked nervous.

“No, that. Ummm that works. If you are okay with me staying at yours?” Greg couldn’t believe his luck. He went from thinking he wasn’t going to see Mycroft again, to staying at his house with him. He was curious as to how Mycroft knew exactly where to find him tonight. Greg certainly had no idea where they were. 

“Are you perhaps in need of dinner? There is an adequate chinese restaurant near my flat.” Mycroft sounded so English. _So..._ what was the English word for fancy? _Posh._ God, he sounded so elegant and posh to Greg’s ears. He wanted to taste the words leaving Mycroft’s mouth and see if they tasted as posh as they sounded. 

He found himself staring at Mycroft’s lips. Even as tired as he was tonight, he could just sit here and listen to the man speak all night, forget sleeping. But he could sleep when he was dead. 

“Greg? _Greg?_ Gregory?” Mycroft was saying his name. _Oh crap!_ Mycroft was trying to get his attention and he was staring at the man’s lips like a crazy person. 

“Sorry Myke. I mean Mycroft. Chinese sounds great. I could really eat anything at this point.” Greg hoped his staring was not as noticeable as he felt it had been. 

“Very well. James, could you please make a stop on the way home? The usual, please.” Mycroft spoke to his driver, then to Greg. “Is there anything special you would enjoy?”

“Oh, uhm, no anything is good.” Greg really needed to start focusing on the conversation happening instead of staring at the man sharing the car with him. But that man was just too damn beautiful, not to stare.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

Mycroft couldn’t believe what he was doing. He couldn’t believe he had listened to Sherlock when he had called and told Mycroft where Gregory was, and that he had no place to stay tonight. Somehow Mycroft was in the car and on his way to the station before he even decided what he was about to do. 

Now, here they were sitting awkwardly in his car, waiting for his driver to pick up the takeaway so they could go back to his flat and Gregory could spend the night there with him. Well not _with_ him, that would be too much to hope for. But he would be in the flat for dinner and sleeping and maybe even breakfast? He wondered if he had anything in for breakfast? _Maybe I should have Jane make a delivery first thing. What would Greg even want for breakfast? What was he even doing?_

Mycroft tried to hold in the panic that was rising inside him. His hands were getting sweaty and clammy.  _ I’m such an idiot for thinking I could do this. Whatever this is. _

Fingers twisting in his lap, while they waited, Mycroft nearly jumped out of the skin when a cool hand slid between his, easing them apart. 

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s just me. If this is too much, just drop me off somewhere. Okay?” Gregory’s voice was so calm and caring, that Mycroft wanted to cry. And just like that he was twenty-two again.

He squeezed Greg’s hand with his. “Sorry, I just-- I just haven’t been around anyone like--well like  _ you _ in a while.”

“What do you mean anyone like me?” Greg asked. 

Mycroft swallowed nervously. “I just--” He was interrupted thankfully by the return of James with the takeaway. “Oh thank you, James. Home, please.” 

Greg let him drop the subject for now, but Mycroft had a feeling that he would be bringing this back up when they were alone again. 

As they arrived outside of Mycroft's flat, he heard a whistle escape from the man beside him. 

"Oh wow! What an upgrade. This is where you live?" Gregory's face said it all. 

Mycroft debated briefly whether to just take the man to a hotel instead. "Yes, this is my flat. Is that satisfactory? I can still take you to a hotel if you’d rather?" 

"Are you kidding?" Greg seemed in awe. "Can I ask what you do now? You're not still running the Gambling Halls are you?" 

Mycroft knew he was joking but it didn't stop him from flinching just a bit. "No, I hold a minor position in the British government." 

"Wow, of course you do. Always knew you were going places. Good for you." Greg gave him a smile that sent his insides racing. “I always knew you were going to be brilliant. So do we get to go inside and have a tour or are we staying in the car all night?” 

Mycroft realized that they had been just sitting in the car out front of his flat with James holding the door. “Oh, of course.” He slid from the car with Greg right behind him. 

_ Why does this man make me so flustered? _

He controlled and ran parts of the government, ordered operations and advised the Prime Minister, yet when he was around Gregory, he was young again, nervous and bumbling along. He pressed the buttons on his keypad, unlocking the front door, stepping in and to the side to give Gregory his first view of the flat. 

In one of the higher ends of London, his flat was modern with a stylish but tasteful flair. His sitting room was the first room they entered. He had centered the room around the white marble fireplace against the far wall with a comfortable white couch and two gray wing-back chairs on either side. His coffee table was white metal with an etched glass top. The design in the glass was the New York skyline. 

In the center of the mantel sitting in a decorative bowl was the zippo lighter that Greg had given him back in New York before he’d left. He had treasured it to this day and had forgotten it would be there on display for Greg to see. 

He watched as Greg wandered through the room, looking at the mantel and his art on the walls. He wished he knew what Greg was thinking as he took in all the parts of Mycroft’s life. He knew the second Greg noticed his lighter in the dish, his eyes lit up and he looked up at Mycroft in disbelief. 

“You kept it all these years?” Greg reached in the dish, picking it up and turning it over in his hand. 

“Yes, I did.” Mycroft replied shyly. 

“I can’t believe it. I really thought you would have thrown it out by now.” Greg smiled fondly. He set it back in the dish. “Well, lead on. Kitchen next I think? So we can get some food. "I’m a bit hungry.” Greg grinned sort of lopsided at Mycroft and he felt his heart fall more in love with this man all over again.  _ What am I going to do when Greg goes back to New York?  _

The kitchen is just over here.” Mycroft turned, leading the way through the arch to his kitchen. This room was mostly marble and steel. It felt cold and he didn’t spend much time here. He ate at work a lot and really only spent the nights here — and even then not all the time. He had been known to work through the night at the office. Coming home to an empty flat was so… lonely sometimes. 

Uncle Rudy had found him this flat when he started his minor position. He would have rather found something a bit more homey, maybe like Sherlock’s flat on Baker Street, but he didn’t get that luxury. He had to have a place that said: “take me seriously” and “I am a cold hearted man of business”, when he really wanted a place he could relax in and feel like he was home with someone he loved and not always alone. Even though he didn’t know what the situation was with his brother and John, he did envy them that, at least. They had each other, no matter what was going on with them. 

Mycroft pulled two plates out of the cupboard and silverware from the drawer. Setting them on the kitchen island, he watched as Greg took the containers out of the bag to help.

"Here let me," Greg started dishing the food onto the plates. "Where are we sitting?" 

"Through here." Mycroft removed a bottle of wine from the counter and two glasses as well, moving into the dining room, next to the kitchen. 

"Nice," Greg set down the plates on the large sleek wooden dining table that sat eight. "A lot for just us." 

Mycroft paused at the table. _Greg was right, this was a lot._ _So impersonal._ So much more like who he was trying to be. He was completely out of touch with people, really.

After Florida, he had cut himself off from everyone, surrounded himself in work alone. He didn't date or socialize unless it was work related. He didn't know how to do this anymore; not that he ever really did, if he thought back. 

_ What am I trying to do here anyway? Am I trying to sleep with this man or date him, or just spend time with him? And does Greg even want any of that with me? _

"Hey, it's okay. Sorry I'm just not used to all this. If you saw the dump I live in, you would understand." Greg was standing beside him, with a look that said he was sorry. 

Mycroft wanted to reach over the short distance and touch the man, but he didn’t dare. Not yet. Food first, maybe some wine would help him relax too. 

“It’s fine. Please let’s be seated and eat. You must be hungry after such a long day.” Mycroft gestured towards a chair for Gregory to use. 

“Yea, I am pretty hungry.” Gregory sat down, pushing one plate in front of Mycroft, while Mycroft began to pour the wine into each glass. “So Myke, tell me what you have been up to besides working these last five or so years?” 

“I really have just been working to further my career. There is not much else these days.” Mycroft sipped wine from his glass. 

“What about people in your life? Any jealous boyfriends I should know about that may appear while I'm here?” Greg gave him a smirk. 

Mycroft choked on his wine nearly spitting it out on the table, which would have been mortifying. “No, I don’t date,” he said, using his napkin to wipe his mouth of any wine. 

“Still?” Greg seemed upset. 

“I don’t have time,” Mycroft answered, placing his glass on the table, taking another bite of food. 

“Has there been anyone over the years, since, well since us?” Greg probed.

“There has been no one.” Mycroft couldn’t read the look on Greg’s face. Sadness? A bit happy? 

“Hasn’t there been anyone you wanted?” Greg asked quietly. 

“Just one, but he lives in another country.” Mycroft picked up his glass again, making a point not to look at Greg at all.

“Well, does he like you?”

“I am not clear on that,” Mycroft replied painfully. This was getting too close to home and becoming more painful than he thought it would.

“Have you asked him?” Greg continued to probe. 

“No, I have not. I do not believe I would be able to handle his rejection.” Mycroft picked at his food, pouring more wine in both of their glasses. 

Greg was quiet for a bit, drinking his wine thoughtfully. “I think you should ask him,” he finally said, matter of fact. “You can’t spend your life not knowing and being alone.”

“Are you currently dating someone?” Mycroft changed the subject to Greg. 

Greg laughed. “Naw, who would want to date me? I work a million hours a week and barely have time to comb my hair.” 

“I have to say, I do like your hair at this length.” Mycroft said off handed. More to himself than anything. Greg gave him a smile that went all the way to his eyes. 

“Are you saying you think I’m cute?” 

Mycroft floundered a bit. “I-- uhm--well--yes you are very pleasing to look upon.” 

Greg broke out in a grin. “You think I’m cute! What about your other man? Forgot him so soon?” he laughed. 

“No, no I haven’t” Mycroft replied, looking straight at Greg. This wine must be going to his head for he was feeling bolder now. 

Greg stopped chuckling, staring back at Mycroft, suddenly having a thought. “You can’t mean me, can you?” he all but whispered, leaning towards Mycroft. 


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are almost to the end folks! Thanks again for joining me on the journey. I want to once again thank my beta Harmony for getting me through this. There was many a day I was going to throw in the towel and never finish this story. I am so happy that she helped me through. Enjoy these chapters. <3

**Chapter 31**

_ ME! I think he is talking about me. Oh my god, please don’t be wrong _ . 

Greg’s mind was racing over everything that had been said. Mycroft liked someone that didn’t live here. Well that could be anyone, but he seemed to be flirting as well. So many signals being thrown around, Greg wasn’t sure what to think. Right now, that gorgeous man was leaning back in his chair, sipping wine and watching Greg over the glass. Greg wondered what Mycroft would do if he was to lean over and kiss him? Would Mycroft kiss back or inform him that there really was another man somewhere? 

_ No risk no gain. _

He watched Mycroft sip from his glass before speaking. “And if I did?” 

“Then I would ask if I could kiss you.” Greg waited, his breath held deep in his chest. Here was the leap, if Mycroft didn’t catch him, then things were about to get very awkward very fast. 

Mycroft stood from the table. Setting his glass down, he stepped in front of Greg’s chair, putting his hand out for him. Greg took the offered hand and let himself be pulled to standing in front of Mycroft. 

He hadn’t been this close to the man since Florida, when Mycroft had curled close to Greg and let him hold him while he slept. Greg wished that the circumstances had been better that day, but he had enjoyed the feel of Mycroft in his arms, the fact that he was able to make him feel safe after what had happened to him, felt like a gift. 

He stared up into Mycroft’s beautiful blue eyes, so soft and vulnerable, just as Mycroft’s head slowly tilted and his lips came for Greg’s. His hand came to rest on Greg’s jaw, cupping just the side of it. 

The kiss, oh the kiss was soft and gentle, almost timid in its feel, like a slow moving tide that just washed in and covered everything in its path. As slow and gentle as it arrived, Mycroft pulled back. Greg was still leaning into the kiss as Mycroft moved back, causing him to rest against Mycroft’s chest. 

“Well,” he said breathlessly. “Hello Gorgeous.” 

Mycroft smiled down at him. “I hope that wasn’t too forward.” 

“No just the right amount of forward.” Greg grinned at him. “Could I interest you in another?” 

Mycroft kissed him again, this time his arms wrapped around Greg holding him tightly. Greg clung to Mycroft and let himself drown in the kiss, so much so that he hadn't heard a phone ringing in the room. 

Mycroft stopped the kiss, moving towards his cell phone. “Excuse me for a moment.” Mycroft picked up his phone and headed towards the back of the flat. “Mycroft Holmes, Yes go ahead.” 

Greg heard a door shut down the hall and Mycroft’s voice disappear.  _ Well alright then.  _ Greg cleared the table, washed the dishes and put the extra food away, before he poured himself another glass of wine and made his way back to the sitting room. He sat on the couch, sipping his wine and looking around the room. 

He still couldn’t believe that Mycroft had saved his lighter all these years. He thought back to that day in Florida when they had shared a cigarette outside the hotel room on a bench tucked under eaves, just out of the rain. Mycroft had sat, tucked against Greg, his legs drawn up with his arms wrapped around them, as they passed a cigarette between them. They hadn’t talked much, just sat there together quietly. Mycroft was trying to process his uncle being alive, after thinking he was dead for almost two years. 

Greg had wrapped his arm around Mycroft’s shoulders, holding him close, protecting him. He had known then that his time with Mycroft was coming to a close and he was not happy about that. He wanted so much to ask Mycroft to let him stay there, to remain near him, but he had chickened out in the end. Knowing that Mycroft was going to have a lot to deal with and didn’t need him tagging along. 

At the end of their shared cigarette, Greg had pressed a kiss to Mycroft’s temple and held him close until his uncle had arrived. Later, when they had run into each other on campus and Mycroft had given Greg a ride in his car to the coffee shop, Greg had realized that Mycroft was going places he couldn’t follow. So he had pressed that lighter into Mycroft’s hand before getting out of the car, giving him something to remember Greg by in the years to come. 

Greg had never thought Mycroft would keep it all this time, and in full view in his home.. It had been one of his favorite Zippo lighters with the Empire State building etched on the side. As Greg looked at it, flipping it around and around in his hand, he noticed that the coffee table design of the New York skyline had something different about it. A closer look showed Greg that there were two figures standing at the top of the building. He leaned closer to see if he could figure any more out when he heard footsteps in the hall. Sitting back again, he picked up his glass for a sip. 

“I apologize for the interruption, but I am afraid I will be further detained this evening. If you follow me I will show you to my guest room,” Mycroft said, looking down the hall. 

“Oh sure, lead the way.” Greg stood walking to put his glass in the sink before following Mycroft down the hall to the extra room. 

“There is a bathroom just through that door, feel free to use anything you require. I will hopefully speak with you in the morning. Goodnight, Gregory,” Mycroft nodded, closing the door behind him. A few foot falls later and Greg heard another door close to what must be Mycroft’s office. He looked around the room, taking in the large bed that looked extremely fluffy and comfortable. He set his bag down and flopped on the bed. 

_ Yup, it was as fluffy as it looked _ . 

He closed his eyes, imagining another body lying next to his. Long and lean with legs that went on for days and ginger curls that were free from the usual hair grease. What a sight that would be, one Greg wanted to see again. He missed the look of Mycroft completely undone, lying in his arms. He wanted that again, badly. 

Greg rolled off the bed and in the bathroom, changing his clothes and brushing his teeth as he looked in the mirror at the man he had become. Gone was the longer hair and piercings of the rebel. In its place was a wiser man, a man that had overcome many things that life had thrown at him and yet he still stood strong. 

He appreciated his reflection in the mirror for a moment, that winning smile, before turning off the lights and going back into the bedroom. Slipping under the covers, Greg let out a sigh while he settled in to sleep, wondering what tomorrow would bring. 


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

Midnight. Half one. Half two. Finally at half three, Mycroft turned off the light in his office and moved down the hall. Pausing at the guest room door, he cracked it slightly, peering in to check on Greg, finding him sleeping soundly, looking so beautiful. 

His heart swelled at the sight, making him long for more. Kissing Greg tonight had been glorious and made his flame for Greg rekindle brightly. Mycroft closed the door and moved away quietly, trying not to wake the man. 

Tomorrow at breakfast, he would get a chance to be close to Greg again. Jane had ensured that the kitchen was stocked with such items that they might need for making breakfast. He continued quietly to his own room, crawling into bed, wearing nothing but his pants and wishing there was another body to touch when he reached his hand across the empty space beside him. 

Mycroft closed his eyes, and dreamt of short dark hair, tattoos and a firm body, he remembered quite well.  _ Until tomorrow _ . 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He woke to noise in his kitchen and for a moment forgot that Greg was in his home, almost pushing the panic button he had installed next to his bed. The clock on his nightstand said it was eight already and he wanted badly to close his eyes for another two hours at least, but he needed to check with the office and his stomach was telling him to eat. 

Sighing, he rolled out of bed and into his ensuite for a hot shower and to relieve himself before dressing. 

After he dressed for the day in his three piece dark navy suit with a lavender shirt and white tie, he looked in his floor length mirror, smoothing his tie out. He tried steadying his nerves before he left his room, heading down the hall towards the Kitchen and Greg. Rounding the corner, the sight before him stopped him in his tracks. 

Greg stood at the stove, cooking eggs, wearing an apron and humming a tune that Mycroft couldn’t place. On the breakfast bar, there were two plates with toast and bacon, and two glasses of orange juice as well. Greg caught him standing there, and turned to smile at him. 

“Good morning, Myke! I hope you don’t mind that I made breakfast.” The man was a beautiful sight in the apron Mycroft didn’t even know he owned. Under the apron he wore jeans, a jumper and had bare feet. Mycroft wanted to kiss him right then and there. He thought to himself: _ why not? What’s stopping you? Nothing, really.  _ They had kissed last night, before Mycroft had been called away for work. 

Crossing the space between them, Mycroft placed a hand on Greg’s jaw before kissing his lips softly. “Good morning, Gregory,” he added as softly as the kiss he had just given. 

“Well, that is a good morning.” Greg grinned back at him. “Sit down, have some breakfast. The eggs are almost done. Did you get all your work done last night?” Greg asked, turning back to the stove. 

“I did. Thank you. I am sorry that I was pulled away.” Mycroft sat down, eating a few bites of toast. 

“Do you have to work today? You look so, what’s the british word? Posh?” Greg chuckled. “I feel underdressed for breakfast. Didn’t know I needed my suit this morning,” he teased.

Mycroft took a sip of orange juice before answering. “I’m afraid that I do have to go into the office this morning. Are you going to stay here or do you need a ride to New Scotland Yard?” 

“I should check in with Sergeant Donovon. Here.” He slid two eggs on Mycroft’s plate and two on his own plate. 

Sitting down, Greg began to eat his breakfast. Mycroft watched him. “How is your case going? Are you finding any leads?” Mycroft asked casually. 

“Yeah, a few. Sherlock really is brilliant,” Greg offered. “Where did he pick up John?” 

Mycroft gave a small nod. “Yes, he has quite a gift for it. I think he’s finally found his passion and if so, I am happy for him. As for John. He met John our first night in New York and they became fast friends. John was recently injured and sent home from active duty in afghanistan.” 

“How did he end up here if he lives in New York?” Greg asked, picking up their now empty dishes and cleaning up breakfast. 

“Sherlock and he never lost touch it seems. I envy him in that.” Mycroft stated softly. 

“Yeah? That’s nice,” Greg added. He moved towards Mycroft again just as his phone started to ring. “Detective Lestrade?” he answered. “ Yeah, sure. Give me a few to get ready. Thanks.”

Greg hung up the phone, looking to Mycroft. “More case stuff. Detective Inspector Donovan is on her way here to pick me up.”

“Ah yes. I wish you luck today. Do you think you will be back for dinner?” Mycroft asked carefully. 

“I don’t know. I hope so. Can I text you? Maybe?” Greg gathered his coat, shoes and socks. 

“Yes, of course. Hand me your phone?” Mycroft asked, taking the offered phone and proceeding to program his number in. “There are times I can’t always answer right away but I will try.” 

“Right, I understand that. So... I guess I will see you later?” Greg paused for a moment before leaving the room to get ready.

Mycroft placed his glass in the sink and moved towards his office, gathering his work papers together, he wondered how long Greg might be in town.  _ What were they even doing? Their lives were to different and now they lived on opposite sides of the world…  _

He heard the front door open, then there was a notable pause before Greg stepped through the door and out. Part of him wished that Greg had stopped in to say goodbye before leaving. Maybe a kiss as well… 

What was he thinking? This needed to stop. He shouldn’t have kissed Greg this morning. He should just maintain the friendship while the man was visiting, so that when he went home the pain of losing him again wouldn’t be so torturous… 

_ Little late for that, Mycroft, _ he berated himself as he finished getting ready for work and called a car. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Greg found himself distracted throughout the day with thoughts of Mycroft. His emotions went back and forth between wanting to return to Mycroft as quickly as possible and staying away from him. As the case dragged on with leads and dead ends Greg realized he wanted to return so much more than he wanted to stay away. He tried texting Mycroft a couple of times throughout the day. Short things. Just to chat. 

Mycroft responded quickly until the afternoon at which point Greg was under a pile of papers and busy as well. As evening rolled around Greg was looking forward to seeing Mycroft. 

Finishing what they could for the day, Greg texted Mycroft to see if he was done working as well. 

**Sent: 6:30pm**

**Hey, I’m done. Should I get a taxi to your house?**

**Received:6:31pm**

**No, I will be outside the MET in five minutes. MH**

**Sent:6:32pm**

**Perfect. x**

Greg stared at the x for a moment after he hit send. Too late to take it back now. If Mycroft said something, he could always say it was an accidental key hit. Tucking his phone into his pocket, he said goodnight to Donovan and headed downstairs to meet Mycroft. 

He stepped outside as his phone pinged in his pocket. Mycroft’s car was pulling up while he fished his phone out and checked the message. 

**Received: 6:34pm**

**xx MH**

His heart tightened at the sight. Mycroft had sent him two back. Greg walked up to the car door with wings on his feet. He slid in with the thought of giving Mycroft those two kisses the second he saw him. Only Mycroft wasn’t alone. 

“Oh, uhm. Hi.” Greg said awkwardly, as he shut the door behind him. The girl looked up from her phone giving him a quick nod. She was gorgeous and dressed as nice as Mycroft. 

Mycroft looked towards him.. “How is the case going?” 

“It was good. I think we are getting somewhere.” 

“That’s good. This is Juliette Thomas, a delegate from France. I am afraid we will be working this evening.” Mycroft’s face was blank and Greg wasn't sure what Mycroft was trying to tell him.

“Oh. Right, ok. Well you can drop me somewhere so I’m not in the way.” Greg mentally kicked himself for not taking Donovan up on her offer of hotels. He should never have agreed to stay at Mycroft’s. The man was too important and busy. But then why did he text Greg the two kisses or kiss him last night. Everything was so confusing. Greg wished he had just stayed in New York.

“That won’t be necessary,” Mycroft answered. 

Greg just nodded and kept his head down. They arrived at Mycroft’s shortly after and Greg followed the two of them up the stairs and into the flat. Juliette spoke rapid french to Mycroft before proceeding to his office.  _ So, she has been here before.  _

Mycroft turned towards Greg, who hovered near the door. “Gregory? Is something-- Did I say something wrong?” Mycroft asked carefully. 

Greg lifted his head to look at him. “Could we maybe talk about this later?” 

“This being?” Mycroft prompted. 

“I am not doing this now or maybe ever. You have work and I’m in the way.” 

“Gregory, I didn’t know that she would be arriving today.” Mycroft stepped towards him. 

“I understand. Work comes first. You are an important man. I think I’m just going to go out for a bit. Yeah, I think that would be best. I will see you later, Myke.” Greg turned, going back out the door before Mycroft could answer. 

Greg knew as he walked down the street that it was not the best way to handle things, but he was feeling confused and needed to get things straight in his head. Googling nearby pubs, Greg found one that looked good and proceeded to walk there. He needed the fresh air and the time to think. Four hours later, with a belly full of fish and chips and more beer then he should have had, Greg wandered back towards Mycroft’s apartment. 

Arriving at the door he realised that he didn’t have a key. He winced ringing the doorbell. He should just collect his stuff and find a hotel right now before he disturbed Mycroft’s life anymore. 

Mycroft opened the door wearing different trousers and a shirt with a dressing gown over both. Greg’s chest caught.  _ What am I even doing here?  _

“Hey, I just came to grab my stuff. I think I will just stay at a hotel for the remainder of my time after all.” Greg watched Mycroft’s face fall. “Sorry I just think it will be better.”

“If you insist. I won’t keep you.” Mycroft stepped back, letting him enter the flat. 

Greg nodded and went to the room he had been staying in. With everything packed he walked back out to find Mycroft sitting in the lounge, drinking. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mycroft looked up as Greg entered. He was really leaving then. Mycroft didn’t know how to make him stay or what was upsetting Gregory so much. 

“I see you are ready. Would you like me to call a car?” he asked.

“No, thanks.” Greg looked at his feet. 

Mycroft put down his glass and moved to stand in front of Greg. “ Can I ask before you leave that you tell me what you wouldn’t say earlier?” 

Greg looked up a bit surprised. “Why?” 

“Because you have a look that says I may never get another chance to ask.” Mycroft reached out to lay his hand on Greg’s arm. “Please.” 

“I don’t know if I can talk about all of this?” 

“Again this being?” Mycroft tried. 

“Whatever this is between us.” Greg answered, waving a hand between them. “What are we doing? I live in another country. Are we friends? Are we more? What are we doing? I am so confused.” 

Mycroft thought for a moment as he tried to figure it out. “I don’t know, really. What do you want out of this?” 

“You are the one that started kissing me last night. I guess what I want to know is, why?” 

“Gregory, I kissed you because I care for you,” Mycroft looked down at his hands. He couldn’t believe he was just laying it all out there. “I have for a very long time. Since even before we first started talking, I think.” he slid his hand down to grip Greg’s. “I just knew, even though back then I couldn’t have you. I knew that I wanted you anyway. Does that make any sense at all? Is it okay that I’ve said that?” 

“Yea, it’s okay. It’s really okay.”Greg squeezed his hand. “I have to ask though,” Greg paused trying to work up the courage. 

“Ask me anything, Gregory and I will answer you as best I can,” Mycroft reassured him. 

Greg took a deep breath before asking. “Are you just looking for a fling? Cuz I’m not sure I can go through that with you. Again.” 

Mycroft watched the emotions play across Greg’s face as he tried to decide how to ask for what he wanted. 

“You know that I--” Greg stopped mid-sentence as Mycroft’s phone began beeping. “Nevermind. You’re busy. I should go.” 

“Gregory, I wish you would stay…” Mycroft asked, quietly. His phone still beeping in his pocket.

“I don’t think I can.” Greg removed his hand from Mycroft’s. “Let’s not talk about it now, I have to go.” Greg finished, picking up his bag, moving towards the door. “I think I know your answer, anyway. I’ll talk to you later.”

With that Greg was gone, leaving Mycroft still standing in his lounge, his heart yelling out at him for being an idiot. He was going to lose this man again, he could see it already. 


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

The next morning, Greg arrived at the Met, checking his text message from Sherlock to see where in the building they were. He moved through the doors and to the lift. In board room three, he found Sherlock and John working through a stack of files. 

“Ah Greg, just in time. Here is a stack for you.” Sherlock shoved a pile towards him. “Let me know if you find anything regarding the date May 29th or Talbit himself.” 

“Uhmm, alright then. And a good morning to you as well.” Greg murmured, sitting down at the table and moving the stack next to him. 

“Good morning, Greg,” John answered with a smile as he looked up for a moment.

Sherlock huffed. “Are we done with the pleasantries? Can we get to work now?” 

Greg didn’t answer, he just started opening files and reading through them. His mind kept wandering to Mycroft and their conversation last night.  _ Should I have stayed and really talked to him? Maybe stay in London for a while and see if we could be something? Or do I finally put Mycroft behind me for good? _ He just didn’t know. He had a week's vacation he could use, but would he know in a week or would he make this big change only to find out it wouldn’t work with Mycroft? Mycroft was an important person and on the rise in his job. Greg was just a kid from Queens trying to stay afloat. 

Sherlock sighed across the table. “Really Greg? You are thinking so hard, it's distracting.” 

“Geez, sorry. Didn’t know you were a mind reader,” Greg shot back, not looking up from the file he was reading. “If it’s bothering you so much, stop listening in.” 

“You do know he cares, don’t you?” Sherlock said, after a few minutes had passed.

“Yea, I do. And I really don’t want to talk about it with you. Can we just work on catching this guy. So I can go home.” Greg went back to reading again. 

Sherlock stood and walked from the room. John waited until the door was closed before looking up to address Greg. “Greg, I know we don’t really know each other and I wasn’t there when everything went down with you guys in Florida or before that, but there is one thing I do know.”

“What’s that?” Greg asked. This was the most he had talked to John, since meeting him but there was something about him that seemed trustworthy.. 

“Sherlock. I know Sherlock like no one else does.” 

“And what does that mean?” 

“He is almost never wrong about things when it comes to Mycroft. They may fight and disagree on things but they would fight anyone that tried to hurt the other and they can read each other like no one else.” John seemed sincere, shifting back to the file in front of him. 

“Yeah I know that. It’s just, I don’t know, it’s hard sometimes to know whether Mycroft...well you know... never mind,” Greg shrugged, flipping a paper in his file. 

John set his file down. “You want some coffee, Greg? You look like you need some.”

“Yea, I guess. Thanks.” Greg nodded.

John stood leaving the room in search of coffee. Greg studied the page in front of him trying not to think of Mycroft for a moment. He had almost missed it, there at the bottom of the page. He read that Talbit had a company that went belly up down near Woolwich.  _ That had to be the place. _

_ Where had Sherlock and John gone? Or Sergeant Donovon? They needed to go. _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mycroft reached his office the next morning to find an unexpected visitor. Anthea Jones sitting at his desk. 

“Good morning, I was just thinking about you this week. How did you know?” He set his briefcase down. Looking at the woman that had helped him so much while they had lived in New York. 

“Have you now?” she smiled. “It just so happens that I am in need of a change.” 

“Are you really? Should I assume that my assistant Jane found you in some way? When did you arrive?” Mycroft settled into his chair. 

Anthea watched him for a moment. “Yes, she did. I am glad she contacted me, because my latest boss was a dick and I am glad to be rid of him.” 

“Did that one go to jail as well?” Mycroft teased. It was nice to be able to joke about Mr Hudson after all this time. For a long time, he wouldn’t even say the man’s name. It was really just nice to joke at all. He didn’t have much of a sense of humour after last night, when Greg left to stay at a hotel. 

Anthea laughed. “I do have a thing for criminals, don’t I? No, this one was just a moron and the job was beneath me. So what do you have for me?”

“I am in need of a right hand man, or lady really. Jane is good but she is not you. I need someone in between me and the clients. Someone to arrange meetings and go to them if I can’t. When my uncle steps down from his company — which he would like to do in a few years — I’ll need someone with brains to help me run the company. What would you say to that?” 

“I say it sounds nice. Aren’t you also part of the government?” she asked.

“Yes, that is why I need a partner. Sherlock doesn’t want any part of this. He has his detective work that keeps him and John busy.” 

“Oh is John back now?” Anthea smirked. “How are the boys?” 

“They are about as much trouble as they were back then, only now Sherlock has the Met behind him as well. Though there are times, they call me to step in and wrangle him.” Mycroft shook his head. 

Anthea laughed. “So no change there. How are you? Did you convince the man of your dreams to run away with you, here to London?” 

“No. He happens to be in town right now, though, but only due to a case he was working in New York.” Mycroft grew somber at the mention of Greg. After last night, it seemed like he was going to lose Greg forever and he didn’t know what the man wanted to hear or what he should say.

“Where is he staying?” She asked.

“Until last night with me.” 

“Oh?”

“Yes, He arrived two days ago and had no place to stay.”

“Are there no hotels in this town?” 

“Well, yes. I did however offer my home to him and he accepted. But then things happened and now I am not sure what is going on. He left last night, upset, and stayed at a hotel.” Mycroft could see Anthea processing the information. 

“What happened last night, Mycroft? Something must have. I’m glad I showed up when I did. Geez you seem like you could really use a friend.” 

“Frankly, I really could. The first night we kissed after eating dinner together, then I was called away for work the rest of the evening. We seemed to end on a good note, but then last night I had a delegate that needed to come over for work. When we picked him up from the Met, he was quiet and left the flat to get dinner. He came back later for his clothes, we talked a bit. I tried to find out what was wrong. Then he left and that was that.” Mycroft let out a sigh. “I fear I am out of my depth and any hope I had of maybe keeping him this time, has flown out the window.” 

Anthea sat quietly, listening while he spoke. “Mycroft, what were you talking about before he left?” 

Mycroft thought it over. “He was asking me why I had kissed him the night before and I told him that I cared for him and had for a while. Then he asked if I was just looking for a fling while he was here. I know that he doesn’t have plans to move here — he’s just visiting for a case. Our lives are on opposite continents and what if it didn’t work out between us? Which of us would have to move again and have our lives changed again? Then I realized that I would go anywhere for him, if he wanted me to. But by then he was leaving the house, headed for a hotel and I missed my chance to tell him that.”

He paused there waiting for her reaction to everything he had just blurted out at her. 

“Oh Mycroft, that is-- and you didn’t get a chance to tell him. When was this?”

“Last night,” He checked his watch. “I am hoping we can talk tonight.” 

“You need to. He needs to know before he leaves. You both need to figure this out once and for all. Now how long before you get to see him?” 

“I am about to have three back to back meetings that I cannot miss, so some time after that. If you would like to sit in these meetings with me? See if you like the business before we move forward with making you a partner?” Mycroft stood, collecting the papers he needed for the meetings. 

“Lead the way, Partner.” Anthea gestured towards the door. “Maybe you should text or call him just to say you want to talk later?” 

“I have. But no reply. Sherlock hasn’t answered my texts all day either. After these meetings I will find him and then we can talk.” 

“Alright, let’s do this then.” Anthea followed him down the hall, chatting about different parts of the job and business. 

Six hours later, Mycroft stepped free of the meetings to find a missed text from Sherlock.

**Received 3:30:**

**Case solved. Greg is leaving. You are missing your chance. SH**

Mycroft checked his watch — half past eight. Five hours since Sherlock’s text. He dialled Sherlock’s number not wasting time on a text message. 

“Hello, Brother,” Sherlock answered. 

“Sherlock, where is he?” Mycroft asked, not waiting for greetings.

“Mycroft, he’s gone. His chief told him to get on the next flight. I tried to tell him to call you, to talk to you, but he said it was better this way. I’m sorry,” Sherlock added. 

“Thank you. When did his flight leave?”

“Half past seven.” 

Mycroft hung up the phone without further words. Half past seven? He had been gone an hour already. No chance to catch him. Nothing. Just gone. 

Anthea walked out of the room to find him standing in the hall, shocked. “Mycroft?”

“He is gone, he is already gone. No goodbye this time. Just gone.” 

“Oh Myke, I am so sorry. Is there anything I can do?” 

“No, but it seems I have a free room if you need a place to stay. Though I won’t be much company tonight.” 

“I think it’s best if you weren’t alone tonight anyway” she said. “Call a car, let’s see this flat of yours.” 

Mycroft called a car and quietly collected his work to take home. Walking beside Anthea to the car, he could feel his heart breaking into a million pieces.  _ He’s gone. Just like that, like he didn’t even care about me at all. _ He didn’t even stay to talk, even after what he had said last night.. Just gone. Mycroft was silent the whole ride home, and Anthea didn’t try to force any conversation out of him. She seemed to know he needed quiet right now. 

As they entered his flat, Anthea commented on how nice it was and how successful he was. Mycroft’s thoughts went to Gregory’s comments the first night, though.  _ Greg... _

When he showed her the kitchen, he found a letter sitting on the island with his name on it. With shaking hands, he opened it carefully. Spreading the pages out to smooth them, he could tell one was from Gregory and one was older, yellowing and was not the same handwriting.  _ It was my letter I wrote him five years ago in Florida. How did Greg have it all this time? _

He read the letter from Greg. 

**Dear Mycroft,**

**I am sorry that I have to do this in a letter. I know it is the cowards way, but I don’t believe I have the strength to walk away from you again. The last time was the hardest thing I had ever done. I would rather walk on hot coals than say goodbye to you again.**

**I have been called back to New York and even though Sherlock tried to get me to stop and see you, I couldn’t do it.**

**Your life is here and you have done wonders with it. You deserve everything wonderful that life has to offer. I wanted nothing more than to stay here a while longer and see what happened, but fate has intervened and it’s probably for the best.**

**What could I offer you? You run a company and work for the British government, while I am just a lowly detective from Queens. I think that in a different world we could have been something great together. But it is what it is.**

**Take care of yourself Mycroft, and never let anyone treat you badly ever again.**

**I have also put in here a letter that I found in the house we rescued you from in Florida. It was addressed to me, so I kept it all this time, but I’d like you to have it.**

**I wanted to be what you needed, always. My happiness and love will always lie with you. You were the very best for me.**

**I want you to find your happiness and love worthy of you. I wish it was with me but you deserve more.**

**I just want you to know, I will always love you and would have crossed oceans for you, if you’d asked..**

**Love,**

**Your Gregory**

  
  
Mycroft let out a sob at the end of the letter, tear drops already landing on the page. Gregory loved him, but thought he deserved better. No one was better than Gregory. How could Greg ever think someone could be more worthy of Mycroft’s love? 

He wasn’t going to lose this man again, especially not after hearing that Greg loved him back. What was he going to do though? 

“Mycroft? It’s time to go,” Anthea said, as she pushed him towards the door. 

“What? Where?” He still gripped the letters in his left hand, the right hand wiped tears that wouldn’t stop falling. 

“You have a company jet, do you not?” She was carrying a bag with her.  _ His bag.  _ “Call them and let’s go!” 

Mycroft pulled his phone out ordering a car and the jet be ready. Forty-five minutes later, he was seated waiting for take off with Anthea beside him.  _ What am I thinking? What am I going to do when I get there? How will I even find Greg? _


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading, commenting and enjoying this story. This is the longest story I have written so far and I have loved it. I hope you will too. <3 Thank you to Harmony, Paia and Dee for your help with this story. It wouldn't have become anything without your help. <3

**Chapter 34**

Greg arrived outside his apartment building after what seemed the longest taxi ride in the world. There had been so much traffic and he was exhausted from the flight home. He had spent the time mentally yelling at himself for leaving the way he had. How he lied to Sherlock about his Chief calling him back to the States, just so he could leave quickly. 

The whole time, he knew he should never have left Mycroft. And the letter on the counter — such a coward's way out. He should have stayed and talked to him about everything they kept sweeping under the rug, instead of running away again. 

That had been his last chance with Mycroft and he had blown it. Now, he would have to move on or continue his loveless existence. 

He got out of the taxi, grabbing his bag as he did. Standing on the sidewalk, he stared up at the building that he loathed to enter. It was filled with empty rooms that held nothing for him. That was his own fault. He could have had something if he had just been brave enough to ask for it. 

_ Damn, damn, damn. _ Walking up the stairs, he could see a shadow on the steps at the top, sitting as if waiting for someone. It better not fucking be Bill again. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with that right now. 

Keeping his head down, he walked up the stairs, not looking at the person. 

“You know it’s rude to just leave a goodbye note and run away.” The shadow said as he approached. 

_ Mycroft! _

Greg felt his jaw drop open as the shadow stood, moving down the four steps between them. 

Mycroft was now face to face with him and Greg couldn't remember the reason he thought he had to leave Mycroft behind. He reached out cupping the sides of Mycroft's jaw, pulling him close to kiss his lips. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Myke," he whispered in between the kisses. "I should never have left that way. I knew the second I got on the plane that it was the wrong decision." 

Mycroft stepped back from him. “Why did you leave, Greg? Why didn’t you talk to me first?” Mycroft’s eyes were filled with sadness. 

“Here, come with me,” Greg picked up his bag in one hand, without answering, and grabbed Mycroft’s hand with the other, leading them down the hall to his door. 

Once inside, Greg dropped his bag on the floor, keeping his eyes down. He turned towards Mycroft, still holding his hand. “Because I know you deserve better than me,” he finally answered. “You always have. I couldn’t hold you back from greatness just because I was having selfish feelings for you.” 

“What about what I want, Gregory? Did you think about that while deciding our future by yourself?” Mycroft’s voice was harsh, making Greg raise his eyes to see the hurt in Mycroft’s. 

“I was trying to do right by you,” Greg tried, squeezing Mycroft’s hand, only to have Mycroft step back from him, letting go.

“If that was true then you would have let me be part of the decision. It sounds like you were running away? What do you think, Greg?” 

Greg could feel the piercing gaze of Mycroft’s eyes searching over him for answers. He stood up a bit straighter, moving towards Mycroft. “I wasn’t running away.” 

“That's what it looks like from here,” Mycroft shot back.

“I mean I  _ was _ . But I promise, I’m not running anymore.”

“Just like the day I left New York, five years ago. You ran then too.” Mycroft continued.

Greg flinched. He  _ had _ been running that day, but that was because Mycroft was clearly going to become someone, and Greg didn’t know who he was going to be yet. But not anymore. 

_ Tell him what you feel, Greg. Be brave. Take a leap for him.  _

“Yes, I ran that day and I’m sorry that I left London without talking to you. I’m sorry for the way we left things. I just can’t believe you would want to be with someone like me… I’m a nobody from Queens and you are amazing.”

Mycroft stalked forward quickly, cupping Greg’s jaw as he reached him. “ You are not a nobody. You are beautiful and kind. You saved me when I had lost all hope. I love you, Gregory Lestrade. I have since I first met you with your shaggy hair, pierced lip and Doc Martens.” Mycroft smiled, placing his lips on Greg’s softly. 

“You--You love me?” Greg stumbled over the words. 

“Yes, is that alright?” Mycroft questioned, his eyebrow rising.

“All right? Hell, yes it's all right!” Greg surged forward kissing Mycroft with a passion and a hunger that surprised them both. 

“I should say that I love you too, Mycroft Holmes.” Greg added as Mycroft smiled against his lips. “I should never have let you go.” 

“No you shouldn’t have.” Mycroft agreed, pulling Greg in for a hug. 

“Have I told you I’m sorry?” Greg whispered into Mycroft’s neck. 

“Yes, but it’s nice to hear.” Mycroft replied. 

“Meanwhile, how did you manage to beat me here?!” Greg suddenly looked confused, the reality of the situation hitting him. Mycroft only responded by laughing and pulling him in for another kiss.


	35. Chapter 35

**Epilogue**

**Three years later.**

Mycroft watched out the hotel window as his soon-to-be-husband directed the florist, arranging the flowers for their big day in the garden outside. Anthea was in charge of organizing everything but Greg wanted to help with the set up for some reason. 

Mycroft could only smile at the man as he hustled and bustled around the garden, placing flowers here and there. Three years since that day in New York and Mycroft couldn’t be happier. He was marrying the love of his life, running a company with Anthea and held a minor position in the British government. 

Life was beautiful.

Gregory was a Detective Inspector at Scotland Yard, working with Inspector Donovan and Sherlock on large cases. He moved to London shortly after that day and they had been together ever since. Mycroft made sure to thank Anthea when he returned, for her support in shoving him out the door. Without her, he may not have travelled to get Greg back and then where would they be?

He turned from the window to attach his cuff links and fix his pocket square. Everything looked lovely. He wouldn’t have cared if they had gone to the courts and got married but Greg didn’t want Mycroft to miss out on anything. It was quite endearing. If he could go back nine years and tell himself that he would someday marry that gorgeous boy with the lip ring, smoking outside the school, his past self wouldn’t have believed him.  _ How far they have come. _

A soft knock on the door revealed Sherlock looking dashing in his best man suit. “May I come in” 

“Of course,” Mycroft checked the mirror again. 

“It won't change.” Sherlock said, moving to stand beside him. 

“What won’t?” 

“His mind. You could be dressed in a sack and Lestrade would still be down there grinning like a fool to marry you,” Sherlock teased. 

Mycroft was inclined to agree with Sherlock, but that didn’t stop him wanting to look his very best for Gregory. “Thank you brother for saying that. What is John up to?” 

“Most likely moving all the flowers over one inch to appease your groom,” Sherlock huffed a laugh.

Mycroft couldn’t help his own laughter. “You are correct, I am sure. Gregory does want everything just right today.” 

“Rightly so.” 

At that moment the door opened, bringing forth the man in question. “You are talking about me, aren’t you? My ears were ringing.” Greg chuckled as he entered. “Oh Myke, you look beautiful.” Greg stopped moving to stare at Mycroft. 

“Don’t you know it’s bad luck to see each other before the wedding, Lestrade?” Sherlock stepped between them. 

“Come off it, Sherlock. Shouldn’t you be somewhere else, right now?” Greg joked, moving around Sherlock to reach Mycroft. 

Mycroft watched the exchange with a smile. He couldn’t be happier today. “You look stunning as well, my love.”

“Yeah, I clean up nicely, don’t I?” Greg grinned at him before taking his hand to brush a kiss on the back of it. 

“Ugh, I’m still here,” Sherlock grunted as he walked out the door. 

“Finally we're alone. I love you, soon-to-be Mycroft Lestrade-Holmes.” 

Mycroft could feel a blush creep up his cheeks. “And I love you, soon-to-be Gregory Lestrade-Holmes. Shall we get married now?”

“Yes, please.” Greg cupped his jaw, raining kisses on his lips and cheeks. 

Mycroft stepped back, taking Greg’s hand in his as they walked out the door to become Mr. & Mr. Lestrade-Holmes. 

  
  


**The End.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. And for any kudos and comments. <3   
> Feel free to come chat with me on twitter @OctoberIsBlue or on trumblr @BlueBuell33.  
> Also check out some of my other stories. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed this. As always you can find me on twitter @Octoberisblue or on Tumblr @Bluebuell33.


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